


Lessons in Etiquette

by KnockKnockBadminton



Series: Lessons in Etiquette [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 169,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnockKnockBadminton/pseuds/KnockKnockBadminton
Summary: Begins in high school. From Prompto's desire to befriend the sullen, bullied prince blooms a relationship even the Astrals themselves could not have foreseen. Basically fills in the gaps from Brotherhood to the fall of Insomnia. Some liberties taken.





	1. The Dog Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised last time I wrote fanfiction eight years ago that story would be my last. Here I am, back at it again. I haven't written Final Fantasy fanfiction since middle school twelve years ago, and yet I saw my desire to do so with this game coming from a mile away.
> 
> I decided to use Roman names for Noctis' classmates because that seems to be the trend in Insomnia, not because I'm that pretentious.
> 
> Thanks for reading this story, and feel free to leave me any constructive crit. I'm always looking for ways to improve c:
> 
> EDIT: Okay, this story has a bunch of epithets and in retrospect, it really bothers me. It's something I'd like to go back and change at some point, but hopefully you can see past them for the time being!

 

"He's got it out again,"

"What, that book?"

"Yeah, that weird book…"

"Maybe it's just a school book? Have you ever thought of that? That people might have _school books_ at _school_?"

"No, it's that red one - the old looking one, you know - _that one book_ …"

"That dog, then…that means it must be around here somewhere…"

"Has anyone ever actually seen it come or go? It just… _shows up_ ,"

"Yeah, that thing creeps me out…"

"The dog brings the book, right?"

"There's no way a _dog_ can just bring a book - do you even _hear_ yourself right now?"

"Look, why don't we just ask him?"

" _I'm_ not asking him, _you_ ask him!"

Aelia and Philo's whispers were never subtle. Noctis suspected since October they particularly meant not to be. Casting his two classmates a dirty look, he sighs and closes the notebook held in his beet red, frozen hands. A jet of wind picks up across the courtyard, temporarily drowning out their gossip. The frigid gust roars so loudly in Noctis' ears, he can no longer ignore the frostbite making the fingers he attempts to ball into a fist immobile.

The windchill made the intentions of Aelia and Philo all the more obvious; they'd come to spy on him indeed. No other students other than Noctis had opted to spend lunch time in the courtyard since the subzero temperatures began nearly a week ago. It was an effortless sacrifice to make in exchange for the break from stares and rumors. Aelia and Philo, whom Noctis admittedly found friendly enough under normal circumstances, were nosier rather than kind.

Where they once had the decency to remain in the classroom to carry on their theory crafting earlier in the week, they had clearly been preparing for the moment to pry into his business, even if it lacked tact and withstanding the scars of the relentless cold. Yet still, Noctis could not blame them.

Were he just a normal classmate of himself, he too, would wonder why he caught only glimpses of an ethereal dog delivering withered, otherworldly tomes he'd soundlessly scribble into before both disappeared without a trace. Were he just a study partner of himself, he'd be puzzled as to why the crown prince sat in a public school class saying a grand total of twenty words on his more talkative days. Were he just an average student, he'd wonder why they were nearing Winter Break and Noctis, the prince, the one who should be the most popular of them all, spent his lunch break flinging a sword around and disappearing rather than soaking in what could be his popularity and laughing with friends.

Noctis closes his eyes, both out of irritation with the two, as well as to prevent his eyes from watering further from the blistering cold.

' _What good is the cold if it's not going to snow?'_ he scoffs internally. _'At least with the snow, I don't have to come to this place.'_

"Come on, Philo, I'm _cold_ , and if you're not going to ask him, then this is pointless!"

"I just wanna wait around a little longer! He stopped writing, so that damn dog is gonna be here any minute! I wanna see it with my own eyes! Then you can't call me crazy anymore,"

"No, I _can_ , just that I can call you crazy for standing out in this _hellscape_ instead of going back into class, where it's warm, and we can feel our faces!"

"Fine, you big baby - come on, before he sees us -"

The two grip their wooly grey, school-issued peacoats tighter to their frames and rush back towards the double doors leading toward the atrium. Noctis opens his eyes once more, staring down at the words he'd written, the blue calligraphy ink running in inconsistent blotches where his wind-caused tears had fallen.

_Can't talk now. Classmates are watching. Again. Glad to hear your weekend was better than last. I always did like your cousins when they'd visit, even if they could be a little bossy sometimes. Hopefully you all can visit again soon. It sucks not having seen you since summer._

A rustling from the leaveless cluster of bushes startles Noctis from his proof reading. A medium-sized, grey and white Alaskan Malamute trots toward him gleefully, tongue out, white puffs of breath dissipating in the wind that picks up once more. Noctis shivers and groans, pulling his own peacoat closer against his shoulders. The dog, whose coat glistens with frost, seems otherwise unphased by the unforgiving cold.

"Hey boy," Noctis smiles, his hands shaking as they bluntly attempt to ruffle the dog's fur. "Heh, you know I'm usually gentler than this," he laughs, his hands heavy like concrete. _'Reminder to self not to forget my gloves next week'._ "Here, take this back to Luna for me. Tell her sorry if I kinda sound like a dick, it's been a rough day," Noctis sighs, producing a bone shaped biscuit from his pocket, which Umbra excitedly consumes. "Tell Pryna hey too, alright?" he adds, as the dog licks him once, the saliva on his cheek instantly stinging from the cold. Noctis turns his gaze upward towards his classroom window, eyes narrowing as two figures dart away quickly from view as Umbra gallops into the bushes. Philo jumps up and down animatedly, pointing down toward Noctis, whilst Aelia's hand grabs the boy's shirt, trying with all her strength to drag him from view.

' _God Dammit'._

* * *

 

"I saw it, Aelia! You owe me lunch! And I want the most expensive thing on the fuckin' menu at Kenny's - no chicken tenders for me, girlfriend!"

"Dude, I _know_ , I saw it, too. Stop being weird, he's coming -"

Noctis's chair scrapes against the floor as he plops in it, silently thankful for the broken radiator that's left the classroom sweltering since November. He places his head in his slowly thawing hands, thankful that Aelia at least had the decency to shush her enthusiastic friend.

' _Imagine the rumors I could come up with about you two. I bet Philo and Aelia are banging everyday in the stairwell after biology lab - I heard Philo lets Aelia cheat off him in Calculus - I heard this, I heard that…I heard Aelia isn't a natural redhead…'_ Noctis bitterly muses, glaring at Aelia's long red ponytail as it swings in tune with her passionate conversation with her best friend. _'I heard Philo curls his hair every morning like a chick…'_ Noctis continues, moving his gaze to Philo's dark brown, tight curls. In reality, however, Noctis heard none of this. He'd heard nothing about his other classmates in general. Most of the whispers and rumors were reserved for the crown prince himself.

When Noctis had excitedly pleaded toward his father and Ignis to let him attend a public school for the first time in his life earlier in the summer, the social suffering was far from what he had imagined. Him being acclimated to an unorthodox way of life - _communicating with dogs, bringing weapons to school, flying around school_ \- were all things he figured his classmates would not notice, what with the prince of their kingdom sitting inches away from them in Chemistry class being seemingly more interesting.

Instead, Noctis was met with invasively inquisitive busybodies at best - whom he despised due to his anti-social nature - and disgust and contempt at worst, from those who felt him and his family were not doing all they could as rulers. The bow placed atop the tightly wrapped package of the socializing nightmare that was high school, however, was simply the fact that commoner teenagers, Noctis learned, were scathing towards eachothers' oddities _regardless_ of your royal status. Being royalty merely seemed to underscore his own.

His eyes scan across the classroom, resting briefly upon those who'd returned thusfar. _'Octavia, she's alright…quiet, pretty, but there's no way she'd ever be seen with me…well, I guess she doesn't talk about me much, thank God…Euclid…kind of a nerd, no muscle at all, but even he has more friends than me…'_ Noctis inwardly sighs, watching as a tall, lanky young man walks in through the classroom door, his oxford shirt loose against his noodly build. _'Rasmus is a gym God…everyone wants to be his partner at Badminton…'_ Noctis muses, staring at a stocky but handsome young man with light brown hair and a prominent jaw, who laughs together with another boy over the sports magazine they share.

' _Calix is nice, she doesn't laugh at me in gym because I can't serve in Badminton,'_ he smiles at a rounder girl with glasses, whom one could accuse of being a statue were it not for her occasionally brushing her black curls from her eyes as she fervently reads the text assigned for sociology the night before.

' _Maximus is a grade A, bona fide asshole if there ever was one…'_ Noctis is quick not to catch the attention of a haughty boy who stands surrounded by friends and admirers as he balances the tip of a dagger on his index finger. "My dad always says it shouldn't just be the _prince_ comin' to school armed," he brags to a group of listeners.

"Why should Noctis be the only one able to defend himself?! He can bring a sword, but the rest of us can't?! Pfft - my dad was at the board for _weeks_ \- said any kid at this school is worth defendin', not just some entitled fuckin' _princess_. With a prince here, who _knows_ what kinda threats he attracts sittin' in our class! Maybe the Niffs break in and take us hostage, or blow us up! And we shouldn't be armed and _prepared_ for that?! He said he'd _own_ this school if he had to raise more of a stink about it - so here you all go. My dad fought for your right to bring whatever weapons you want to school, and this is the one he gave me. He was real proud, too. Said it was a family heirloom - we even have a Kingsglaive in the family history - told my dad I'd never join if it meant I had to be _his_ Glaive," Maximus sneers, throwing his thumb behind himself to point disgustedly towards Noctis. "Still, though! Check it out! Maybe pretty soon we'll all start flyin' around the school like fuckin' fairies!"

'… _but he still has friends,'_ Noctis resigns, as the group of listeners laugh at Maximus' imitation of his failed attempts at warping. _'I guess that's what I get for cutting socials to practice on campus. Fuckin' Ignis, this is why I told him to leave me alone and stop forcing me to practice at school…'_

Noctis snorts at his warping practice sheet log sticking out of his backpack, stuffing it carelessly back down toward the bottom.

' _I guess the only weirdo here is that Prompto kid…'_ Noctis turns to survey a relatively tall blonde, whose freckled face is twisted in laughter as Aelia delivers a well-timed punchline to a joke of which Noctis only half caught the beginning. It quickly occurs to Noctis that the damning of "that Prompto kid" to _weirdo status_ was all too soon. Although there were smarter, cooler, and faster kids in the class, _everyone_ seemed to like Prompto. Head of the Senior Class Student Council, Prompto always knew how to put on his best face for any crowd in the grade. Regardless, this had not always been the case.

Noctis had never known the young man, but according to what others told him at the beginning of the year, Prompto had once been massively overweight, and was withdrawn and sullen, perhaps the result of personal problems at home, Noctis had always assumed. _'Weird how even the bullied fat kid can shed a few pounds and find his place in the world…'_ Noctis defeatedly concludes, staring at the blonde, who'd since left Aelia's circle, banging his fingers on the desk in tune with music he listened to via headphones.

"Yo, Noct!"

Maximus, seeming to have grown bored of the attention, catches the day dreaming man off guard. His lips curl into a devious, white smile. "I heard you got a friend you're gonna be introducin' to the class! 'Bout time you made one, eh?" he jeers, Noctis rolling his eyes and rustling in his school bag without a retort.

"You got more powers we ain't heard about yet, eh? As if bein' a fuckin' _prince_ didn't make you special enough? Heard you can talk to _dogs_! Heh! Even the fuckin' dog don't stick around for too long after talkin' to a snooze like you!" he booms, gaining laughter from his otherwise silent friends. Aelia shakes her head vigorously, hands outstretched before her. _"Ixnay on the ogday, dude!"_ she hisses, Philo face palming at his own seat.

"Really, that's the best insult you could come up with this time?" Noctis scoffs nonchalantly, straightening out in his chair and looking Maximus in his narrowed green eyes. "You're usually better than that," _'Great, now everyone's watching.'_

"Oh what, you wanna settle this some other way, _highness_?" Maximus' smile fades, his jaw steeling as he tenses his shoulders, stepping toward Noctis' desk.

' _Settle what? You started it. Just throw a punch next time, dude…'_

"Not that you've got the stones. A little wimp like you, prince of this fuckin' Kingdom. What a joke! You guys see this? This whole fucking country? It ain't gonna be how we know it for long. Might as well let the Daemons come and get us now! Don't let your fuckin' daddy die - _AREGH!_ "

Maximus' sentence is cut short by his high pitched scream as Noctis tackles him to the ground, his fist tingling with pain as he feels the cartilage of Maximus' nose shattering like glass under the force of his punch.

" _Someone get Mr. Fabius!"_

" _Hell no! KICK HIS ASS, NOCT-!"_

" _KNOCK HIM OUT, MAX-!"_

" _YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO THE PRINCE! YOU'LL BE TRIED AND HANGED!"_

" _HOLY SHIT, WHAT'S GOING ON?!"_

" _FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"_

" _Come on, Noct -"_

A voice grunts as someone pulls Noctis back by the lapel of his blazer, dragging him down the hall. It was the only clear voice Noctis could process throughout the whirlwind of cheers and taunts that continue to swirl in his ears.

"What're gonna do, you fuckin' pussy?!" Maximus screams after them, staggering as he stands, wiping his rapidly bleeding nose with the back of his hand. "YOU GONNA THROW YOUR PUNY LITTLE _SWORD_ AND FUCKIN' FLY AWAY LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO? OR IS HAVING THE EX FAT KID SAVE YOUR ASS EASIER?"

Noctis feels the hand that continues to forcefully drag him down the hall tighten for a brief moment, though their pace does not falter.

' _What must this look like…?'_ Noctis wonders quietly, as they hastily pass a cluster of underclassmen girls whose eyes widen once meeting his own. He is left with little time to wonder, as the hand pushes him forward with a jolt, Noctis free to control himself once more.

"You okay, man?" the same voice from before croaks slightly, and Noctis quickly regains his senses as the cold from before whips his face - he finds himself standing outside, across from a concerned and shaken Prompto.

' _The weirdo. Great, I've been saved by the weirdo.'_

"Couldn't you _see_ I was fine? It's not like I was _losing_ ," Noctis snaps, folding his arms and glaring at his classmate.

"Yeah, and see, that's great? But uh, the last thing I want is more trouble happening, especially on school property, and it's my responsibility to stop trouble when I see it, as a council member, and - and all…"

' _What a goody two shoes. The fat kid is a tattle tale and a do gooder, of course he is'_ Noctis thinks to himself, admittedly not proud of his thoughts, as he goes to bully another when he himself knows how such actions can hurt.

"Plus I figured, kinda don't, uh, want anyone getting hurt, and better me breaking it up than up than a teacher, or - or something…" Prompto trails off, scratching behind his head nervously. "I figured - h-hey, I can bring you outside to _cool off_? G-Get it? It is negative seventeen today after all," he chuckles weakly.

" _You really think I can just go back up there_?!" Noctis growls, sprawling his hands forward in desperation.

"Like _that_? No, you're all covered in blood!" Prompto exclaims, a warmth of pride welling in Noctis' stomach. _'Well, at least I can say I kicked some ass before getting expelled…'_

"Look, Noct, Maximus is an _idiot_. An asshole and an idiot - you're just giving him what he wants! You're a _prince_ , dude. He's jealous and it's obvious! He may have money and his dad may be powerful, but none of that compares to the money and power you have -"

" _And you think that makes my life any easier?!"_

"Hey, look, I don't _think_ anything! I'm just saying, you know? He looks for people who - who aren't as popular as he is, he does what he can to - he's always been this way, he's - he's not worth it," Prompto mumbles.

"Speaking from experience, huh?" Noctis sneers, though once again quickly regrets the sarcasm; Prompto's features falter into a dull blankness, not in a way relating to the numbness of the weather.

"…I dunno, I - I was just trying to act fast, and do what was right," Prompto stammers after a few moments of silence, still refusing to meet Noctis' gaze or acknowledge his previous comment. Likewise, Noctis felt his anger with the young man slowly subsiding, blood still pounding in his ears. "It would have been nice if someone could have done the same for me a long time ago," Prompto softly scoffs.

' _What the hell's that supposed to mean?_ ' Noctis wonders internally, taking a deep breath before shaking his head. "I - I guess I'll take it from here," he continues.

"Go home, man, it's Friday. C-come back rested up on Monday, I guess,"

' _This is the longest conversation I've ever had with anyone at this place. Figures it should be with the weirdo.'_

"Yeah. Thanks," Noctis slowly nods, though his irritation quickly returns as he looks up to see Prompto backing away slowly. "What, think I'm gonna snap on you, too?"

"Nice doggy…" Prompto whimpers, eyes nervously cast behind Noctis as if he were entirely invisible.

"Umbra!" Noctis jumps, the dog running faster towards the two as Noctis bends down to pet his friend. "What're you doin' here, buddy?"

"I guess you know him, so uh…." Prompto whispers. "…yeah, I guess I'll let you go,"

"Right," Noctis tersely hisses, Prompto giving one last worried look to the dog before turning around to go back into the building without another word. Noctis watches the young man with silent confusion over the series of events and how quickly they'd transpired in the classroom.

' _One second, I'm getting ready for sociology, the next, I'm outside covered in blood, talking to Prompto, of all people, and petting Umbra,'_

Noctis stares in silence throughout the school grounds for a few thoughtless moments, mindlessly petting Umbra before a particularly powerful bout of wind causes him to wince.

"Guess I better call Ignis to pick me up."

* * *

' _Prompto, you idiot!'_

Prompto strides quickly back toward the classroom, thankful the lunch bell signaling the beginning of class had rung whilst outside with Noctis, and the halls were empty.

' _I wish someone had done that for me a long time ago…is that the best you could do?! Why didn't you just say it?!'_

His breath shakes, partially from frustration, partially from defrosting.

' _I was only out there a few minutes…it really is cold out there…'_

Prompto closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts and breath before placing his hand on the shiny brass doorknob, returning to the assuredly electrified tension that was Sociology.

' _It wasn't his fault if he didn't remember me, it was eight years ago, he's a prince, he's busy - he meets tons of people - we didn't even talk, how was he supposed to know, how was he supposed to know I -'_

Prompto shudders at the thought of the young man he'd been unable to shake out of his head since August; the second time in his life in which the crown prince had shared a classroom with him. The first time had been at a private preparatory middle school for Insomnia's elite. Where everyone else had clearly secured their spots at the institution through fame, wealth, or prestige, Prompto had been the only scholarship kid whose attendance relied solely on the continued benevolence of schoolboard chairmen.

Where other students - Noctis included - were never seen in the same outfit twice, Prompto's slightly too small, thrift store monstrosities did nothing to hide his shapeless flab. Where other students - Noctis included - had clearly brought lunch prepared for them by personal chefs and dieticians - Prompto had only the change he'd collected to purchase fast food on the way home from school. Where other students - Noctis included - had parents whose presence was so overbearing that a single complaint often sent teachers sacked without warning in the middle of their lessons - Prompto had never seen his once throughout the school year.

Where other students - Noctis included - went home to stable, loving, caring homes, Prompto eventually jumped in and out of the foster care system, his grades slipping, and his place at the preparatory school ceasing to exist. Even then, however, Prompto knew Noctis was different. Where other students had bullied him, Noctis had never shied away from letting him borrow materials, sharing a joke, or giving him _freshly pressed parsnip, kale, and lemon oxidizing juice_ (how pretentious, Prompto laughs to himself) on days when he didn't even have enough for a glass of water at lunch.

Although they had never truly spoken, or even exchanged names, Noctis had never mistreated him. It was something Prompto had never forgotten, even going so far as to allow the memory of their potential friendship convince him to spend the summer exercising and losing weight.

He'd been so hopeful to return in shape, in fresh clothes, as a student worthy of seeking the friendship of the crown prince - though the turmoil of his foster care situation caused him to neglect his summer homework, and his grades to drop - and thus his scholarship was terminated.

Although Prompto did not mind the fresh start the new school and new body had given him, he'd often wondered about the prince and if he remembered the pudgy poor kid drowning in the sea of privilege. Where the wondering had once been daily, however, it soon diminished to merely weekly, then monthly, then finally very rarely fleeting flashes of a distant memory.

After finally settling within a kind foster family not far from the palace itself, Prompto had at last found himself uttering the words "mom" and "dad" with joy. Having improved his grades, Prompto had slipped into his new, albeit public, high school as a freshman with exceptional ease. Although internally anxious and insecure, he'd quickly found himself well-liked, academically successful, and voted a permanent member of the student council.

' _And yet here you are again.'_

Something had changed within the eight years since he'd last seen the prince. Although he'd known Noctis to be relatively reserved, even as a ten year old, there was no doubt he fit in well within the dynamic of the school - much more so than Prompto had. Yet it was at Insomnia Municipal High School where Prompto had found his admittedly awkward and motley place, and the nervous prince had not.

He knew the King had been growing rather poorly - Prompto watched the news and discussed current affairs with his adoptive parents every day, and talks of increasing political tensions were hard to miss whether royal family or civilian. The regal expectations Noctis assuredly endured in his grooming to become king were also most likely unpleasant.

"Are you going to be joining us in class, Mr. Argentum? Or will you merely stay planted in the threshold?"

The class chuckles. Prompto's cheeks flush as Mr. Fabius, an older, bald, permanently rosy man, gestures to the blonde's seat.

"Sorry, I - I was -"

"No need to explain, Erasmus explained the incident between Mr. Caelum and Mr. Aquilus," Mr. Fabius interjects, and Prompto wobbles back to his own seat, careful not to meet the eye of Maximus, who scowls at the lesson on the chalkboard, nose bandaged, his navy blazer flecked with dried blood.

Philo pointedly ignores Aelia's constant attempts to pass him notes, instead scribbling away in his subject notebook whatever Mr. Fabius scrawls on the board. Prompto could feel the burning curiosity of his classmates, wondering what flavor of words himself and Noctis had exchanged outside, and for once, Prompto was thankful there were fifty minutes left of class if it meant avoiding the subject of _Noctis;_ it was, after all, a subject he had been avoiding within himself for years _._

' _I do gotta say, I'm kinda curious what that whole dog thing is about, though.'_

* * *

"I must admit, Noct, I'm surprised it took until December seventh, for the phone call to pick you up early,"

"Don't _do_ this to me, Iggy,"

"What am I to explain to your _father_ when he sees the state of you?"

"Uh, _nothing_? Because you don't need to tell him?"

" _Need_ and _should_ are two different things, Noct, and I would be most irresponsible if I opted for the former rather than the latter,"

"Look, can you pull the stick outta your ass for me just this once?"

"No, I'm afraid it's jammed quite firmly up there and I have no desire to pull it out," Ignis snaps back, tapping a random series of buttons upon the dashboard console, swinging open a set of ornate, gigantic, black and gold, cast iron gates. Once the loud creaking ceases, Ignis accelerates along a paved, winding path onto Caelum private grounds.

"Your father and I warned you of this, Noct -"

"Of _what_?!"

"Of public school -"

"It was nothing, okay?! I - I didn't -"

" _Save it_ , you've got another two minutes along the drive as you know, if I were you, I'd be taking this time to think of what you're planning on telling your father,"

"Not like you're helping any,"

"I must say I'm quite hurt, considering I left lunch preparations to _help_ you by coming and picking you up,"

"…you're just loving this aren't you," Noctis asks sarcastically, Ignis looking in his rearview mirror to catch Noctis' moody expression.

"Oh _yes_ ," Ignis sighs. "I'm loving that your uniform is getting added to your already extensive laundry pile, I'm loving that I get to spend the weekend with a thoroughly pissed off Noct, and I'm loving that my perfect lunch may be sullied by the negligence of that _Bertha_ , gods knows why your father has _her_ in the kitchen,"

"And I can't _wait_ to hear what Gladio has for me," Noctis continues overtop Ignis' own sarcastic rant. "The guy already hates me, I'm sure he'll find a way to make this about me being a _brat_ ," Noctis slams the door to the Regalia with so much force he looks back to make sure he doesn't dent the body.

' _Thank Gods Iggy's up ahead already bitching about salad forks,'_

"…already having been in a kitchen for fifteen years, you'd thing the woman'd know a difference between a salad and dessert plate," Ignis sneers, Noctis only just tuning in to the man's complaining.

"Eh, uh…yeah," Noctis agrees halfheartedly.

"Did you say Umbra visited you today?" Ignis asks curiously, turning to look at the prince, his hand on the key in the lock.

"'Uh, yeah? Why?" Noctis asks pointedly in return.

"Hmm. Must mean Lady Luna is thinking an awful lot about you, then,"

" _Shut up, Iggy_ ," Noctis breathes through his teeth, flaring red and stepping through the open door into the foyer of the castle's private quarters.

"Right. I'm to go check on the assured disaster in the kitchen. I'll leave it to you to be personally responsible for yourself and speak to your father about this incident - and remember, your father'd rather hear it first from you, rather than me, so you might as well get it over with," Ignis warns sternly, his increasingly faster footsteps upon the checkered marble floors toward the kitchen echoing off the high stone ceilings.

Noctis shoves his hands in his uniform slacks, his bloody blazer slung over his shoulder.

' _Luna's thinking a lot about me…whatever, Iggy…what am I gonna tell dad? What am I gonna do on Monday? I didn't even get the homework…'_ Noctis contemplates, staring at his feet as they carry him to an inevitable scolding.

' _Oh well, if I don't know the homework, that's one less hour of tutoring I have with Iggy…he's awful smug today, maybe I'll push the tutoring until tomorrow—"_

"Oof!" Noctis grunts, colliding against the frame of a sweaty Gladio, who turns the corner.

"Watch where you're going, you little -! Wait a minute, what are _you_ even doing home so early?!"

' _I knew he'd be happy to see me,'_

"I got picked up by Ignis, who already knows, so what business is it to you?" Noctis snaps, rubbing his forehead where a dull, throbbing pain silently reminds him to look where he's going if Gladio is home.

"Well you look like _shit_ ,"

"Thanks, you too," Noctis spits back, huffing as he makes to storm past his bodyguard.

"You wish you could look this good after a three hour training session, your spindly legs can barely keep up after ten minutes,"

"I don't need this or _you_ , today, Gladio!" Noctis growls, plopping into a satie and looking straight ahead through the marble columns and into the castle gardens.

"And I don't need your sass or attitude, or you bumping into me because you're too consumed in your stupid little drama to watch your own back!"

' _I've really done it this time - can't wait for him to take it out on me in training,'_

Noctis says nothing, instead choosing to scowl straight ahead. Gladio closes his eyes, sighing deeply, turning slowly to continue walking.

"Seriously, though, you look like shit -"

"Because I got into a damn fight today, _there_ , are you happy?!" Noctis explodes, choking on his own anger.

"…Well did you win it?"

Noctis furrows his brow in confusion, looking up at his bodyguard, whose smug smirk leaves him as bewildered as he is annoyed.

"I - I think I broke his nose," Noctis admits sheepishly.

"Heh - looks like there's a part of you underneath all that wuss catching on after all then," Gladio smiles, briefly placing a hand on Noctis' shoulder. "He didn't get a hit in?"

"No, some - some kid from class dragged me outside before it could get worse, I guess,"

"Your father's not gonna be happy to hear about it,"

"Tell me about it," Noctis sighs defeatedly. "My hand is killing me, though, where I hit him,"

"Yeah, throwing your first _real_ punch is never pleasant,"

"Hey!? This - this isn't my first real punch? I've - I've punched people plenty of times?!"

"Save it for someone who doesn't know how bad of a liar you are, kid," Gladio scoffs, truly setting off down the hallway. Noctis rolls his eyes, climbing out of the chair and setting towards his father's throne room himself in the opposite direction.

"Hey Noct?" Gladio's voice echoes from down the hall.

"…Yeah?" Noctis replies quietly.

"Good job kickin' ass today, I think we can call off training for tonight,"

Noctis laughs quietly, smiling to himself.

"…thanks Gladio."

* * *

' _This has to be at least the third time in a row I've listened to this song,'_

Prompto pauses his phone, taking his headphones out of his ears and leaning back into his office chair, rubbing his face into his hands. He taps the button on the side, his screen illuminating to reveal only fifteen minutes had passed since he last checked the time.

' _8:00pm'_

His room itself is small and modest - an upstairs loft, with only room for his wooden desk and chair, his neatly made single bed, and his corner of half-organized photography equipment. His walls are papered in self-taken photos of plants, animals, landscapes - photography had consistently been Prompto's only form of escape of his own sense of mediocrity. His desk lamp casts shadows about the dark, small room. Prompto shudders suddenly, noticing his bedroom had suddenly grown unbearably cold. The houseplant that dangles from his ceiling - ivy - swings slightly in another fierce winter breeze.

Prompto rushes as he realizes suddenly that the small window directly across from his desk was wide open, letting in terrible fronts of frigid air.

"Fwweew…..no wonder," he mumbles to himself as he shivers, closing the source of the cold. Instantly within a split second of doing so, however, he gets a distinct feeling of dread as he realizes he is no longer alone. Turning around with a lurch of doom forming in the pit of his stomach, Prompto shouts at the top of his lungs as he finds a medium sized Alaskan Mamalute silently sitting on his green bedspread.

" _Everything okay, sweetie?"_ his mother calls from downstairs, Prompto keeping his eyes on the intruding canine as his surprise settles in a few seconds longer.

"Y-yeah, mom! I - I'm fine!" He slowly slinks towards his bedroom door, closing it, keeping his eyes fixed on the dog, never once turning his back toward it. Prompto continues to stare at the canine in disbelief, shoulders heaving wordlessly as he tries to cobble together any form of expressing his disbelief.

_'When I said I really like dogs and wished I could talk to them out loud a few weeks ago, this isn't what I meant!'_

"L-look, you - I know you can understand me, somehow...gahhhh..." Prompto begins slowly before rubbing his face within his hands. "Am I really so lame that I'm talking to a dog?! Look - tell - tell - _Noctis_ \- I'm sorry! I didn't mean - I'm sorry for whatever happened 'cause of today, I didn't mean it, I - don't hurt me!"

But much to Prompto's surprise, the dog simply places a red book - one Prompto was entirely certain was not in the dog's mouth before he'd blinked - calmly onto his bed, wagging his tail expectantly.

"If I read it…do you promise not to hurt me?" Prompto asks nervously, the dog silent in return. Prompto had a distinct fondness for all animals - cats, dogs, rabbits, yet there was a particular nuance to the dog that unsettled even the most affectionate of animal lovers. Other students in their grade had noticed it as well, almost as if there were something more to the dog than first impressions led one to believe. "I can't believe it…I'm talking to a dog that snuck in my room, and produces magic books! Did I wake up this morning? Am I sure I'm not still sleeping?" Prompto whines, briefly looking up toward the heavens before slowly extending a hand to grab the notebook. Once certain the dog meant no harm, Prompto quickly grabs it, opening to a random page.

Beautiful, flowing cursive in emerald green ink spells out a message so shocking to Prompto he brings the book closer to his eyes, his features contorting in confusion.

_Noctis needs you. Reach out to him on Monday upon your return to school. The prince is in dire need of the blessings you carry, and in need of the light you will bring to his life, in need of your friendship._

Clearly this had been someone's idea of a joke. Surely everyone had noticed Prompto's attempts to engage Noctis in conversation - dropping his pencil and asking Noctis to pick it up, bumping into his desk, bumping into Noctis _himself_ , the way he was careful not to seat more than three seats away from him in every class, the way he'd tried to make himself seem so popular with everyone, thus leaving Noctis no choice but to seek him out as a friend as well...

Prompto had even heard Maximus laughing about "Prompto the royal homo" with his friends, but he had much to thank for the fact that as well liked as he is, others interfered before the conversations became too tasteless.

"You know what? I can't believe my classmates," Prompto scoffs disbelievingly, placing the book down on the bed, shaking his head wordlessly. "I know - I know the dog thing's been making the rounds, everyone's talking about it, and sure, it's weird, but to think that _someone in class_ would go through all the trouble to perform a prank this crazy on me? Why me?"

Yet when Prompto goes to reread the message, the sinking feeling for earlier returns upon the realization that as student council president, he'd seen much of his classmates' handwriting, and not a single colleague with even similar written quirks came to mind.

"...Blessings I carry? What _blessings_?" Prompto repeats aloud, combing through his thoughts in one last attempt to label the peculiarities of it all a silly teenage prank. "Why does this sound so serious? Who is this? What is this? Why?". Prompto re-reads the message for the fifth time before looking at the dog in resignation.

"You, listen…" Prompto warns the dog with a shaking breath, looking back and forth between the script and its messenger. "If this is some joke, then this isn't funny. If this isn't a joke, then it's _still_ not funny! I don't know how a dog can - can know all this - where I live - how I feel about Noctis -that's it, Noctis, this must be Noctis - he must find it funny - he - he must know - look, you, I don't know what you're doing -"

But Prompto's abruptly aggressive tone sends the dog on his haunches.

"No, no no no, I didn't mean -!"

"RRRRRRRRRRUFFFF!"

" _SHHHHHH! ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! OKAY! SHHH!"_ Prompto steps back as Umbra belts, wincing as he hears weight upon the steps.

"Sweetie is there a _dog_ upstairs?!"

"N-NO, MOM! IT'S JUST A VIDEO ONLINE, MY SPEAKERS ARE VERY LOUD!" He shouts back nervously, running a hand through his hair and collecting his breath. "…Who wrote this?" Prompto asks quietly after a few seconds of silence. The dog's eyes dart between Prompto and the book, which the blonde reluctantly back picks up, opening once more to the same page.

_This is no trick, and this is no farce of ill will. Please heed my words, for the peace of Eos._

"….How? This is the same page, where's the other message -?! Peace of Eos - what the Hell? This is ridiculous!"

_Even of all his advisors, his trainers, his guards, and his minders, you are the only one who can truly guide the prince to be a king - through love._

_Love?_ Prompto's breath catches in his throat as he reads the last word, the blonde coughing deeply before gasping for air and scrutinizing the final word. The curly "l" and its dainty loop, the way said loop connects with the skinny "o"s, the pooling of the ink as it dries in the valley of the "v", and the unique trail of a tail that ends the word with a flourishing "e"... Prompto had _admired_ the prince for years, and certainly _envied_ the doting lifestyle he enjoyed, the coolness of his nonchalance, the sleek car his one stuck up advisor drove when picking him up and dropping him off from school, and he'd most definitely desired to _trade places_ with Noctis for a day - but _love_? The absurdity of falling in love with someone he did not even truly know was enough to furrow Prompto's brow into disbelief. He'd felt many emotions for the young prince who'd captivated him so, yet love would never have been the first word he would have chosen.

"...You, I'm done," Prompto croaks after minutes of silent deliberation, placing the notebook upon the bed, his face radiating heat with such intensity that he is not surprised when he catches a glimpse of its redness in the mirror. "I've had a long day, you know, and I wanna get up early tomorrow to get the sunrise, so uh..."

But would there _be_ a sunrise? The magical message-changing book seemed to imply that Prompto had a mission rather integral to the fate of the world. What unnerved Prompto most, however, was the rising feeling of excitement that welled within him, growing too large to ignore; he'd finally have an in to have a real conversation with Noctis the prince could not wave away.

_'Heh, and then, your dog friend came in my room, and told me I had to save the world to be your friend...what a prank, right dude? Man are classmates sure are weird...'_

Prompto scowls at his visualization of just how he would breach this subject with Noctis on Monday. Somehow the dog - Umbra, Prompto remembers suddenly, having heard Noctis say the name earlier that day - and his magical book of revelations had left Prompto with no other option than to tell Noctis the truth, lest he wanted to save any face of sanity before the one he so greatly admired. And thus it was decided.

Prompto closes his eyes and sighs, exhaling slowly.

"Is this all you want? I'll speak to - _him_ on Monday - but if it doesn't work out, and he doesn't wanna be my friend, you leave me alone, okay? I held up my end of the bargain! Wait, what?"

Prompto gasps he opens his eyes once more, the book sitting open against an empty page, a thin silver and gold calligraphy pen placed neatly between its pages. Gulping, Prompto reaches a shaking hand to grab both before scrawling his own terse message.

_I will talk to Noctis on Monday. Also, please stop scaring me._

Prompto grimaces at his own illegible scribbles - green ink splatters the pages where he'd been clumsy, and his letters were uneven and slanted compared to the writing of the mysterious messenger. "Don't laugh, I've never used one of these weird dog pens before, okay?" Prompto tries to laugh, Umbra giving him a quick nuzzle.

"There, does that work?" Prompto asks quietly, smiling smally beside himself as Umbra wags his tail. "Okay then…" he mumbles, awkwardly patting the dog upon his head twice. Prompto knew proper etiquette when it came to petting _normal_ dogs, though his knowledge of magical dog behavior was severely lacking. "Okay, I'm gonna open the window, don't try anything funny, alright?" Prompto swings open the window, the noises of Downtown Insomnia on a Friday night flooding his room with chatter and honking car horns.

"And don't leave your - _what_?!"

All signs of the dog and the book had disappeared once more in the blink of an eye.

_"No way,"_

Prompto holds his breath for what felt like an eternity before rushing around his room, violently tearing up everything there was to lift up looking for a sign of the two.

"Sweetie, are you sure it was just a video?"

A small woman with a blonde bun stands in her son's door way, hands on her hips.

"…Yeah, mom! I - I just lost my headphones, was looking for them is all! Heh Heh! Here they are!" He grins, holding up the white earbuds nervously. His mother raises her eyebrows, but does not protest. She closes the door behind her, and Prompto only unfreezes when he no longer hears the creaking of the wooden stairs.

"I swear to the Gods, if this is a prank, if I get to school, and everyone's laughing, if I...if they made the notes in disappearing ink.. the love thing...If I talk to his ass about _anything_ on Monday," Prompto shudders through a deep, cold sweat, "It's going to be about that weirdo dog,"


	2. Hellhounds

 

"It was irresponsible of you to tell Noct good job for breaking another boy's _nose_ ,"

Noctis's breath catches in his throat, his hands tensing on the doorknob as he leans closer against his slightly ajar bedroom door. He narrows his eyes as he listens closer, catching the silhouette of Gladio folding his massive arms across his chest.

"That's rich, coming from the man who's been saying 'today's the day I force Noct to eat his vegetables' since July,"

The best way to tell whether or not Gladio meant his venomous comments, Noctis had grown to learn over the eight years of training, is to listen for the smile in his voice not necessarily projected upon his face. Ignis, Noctis had also grown to learn, was not the least bit delicate or servile many assumed him to be when he personally felt slighted. Ignis must have heard Gladio's smile as well, however, for he scoffs before acutely continuing.

"You understand the damage this could do to the whole court if commoners get word that the prince of Insomnia is assaulting his peers?!" Ignis insists with urgency.

"All I know is that Noct breaking the nose of a butthead looking to start shit with him shows he's getting a backbone. A king doesn't have room for moping when war's at his doorstep, and you and I both know how much of a moper Noctis can be -"

' _I so am not!'_ Noctis furrows his brow, though opting to stay silent so as not to blow his cover.

"I don't want to hear about him breaking noses every other day either, Iggy, but I'm glad the little shit I've spent nearly my entire adult life's work to shape some balls on is finally growing a short and curly - the behavior part is _your_ jurisdiction,"

"Please do not encourage Noctis to be rash," Ignis resigns somewhat desperately. "The more time I spend having to pick him up because of infractions at school, the less time I am practicing my own fighting skills, or in the kitchen -"

"Yeah, everyone knows Bertha is a hot mess, Iggy, you got nothin' to prove!" Gladio outright chuckles, Noctis unable to miss Ignis' disgusted scoff at his colleague's laughter.

"Don't even get me started on that vile woman - I just do not want to see Noctis' reputation as a royal be tarnished because of his lack of restraint - tensions are already running high, people are fearing war, and I do not think Noct understands that his duty as a king in waiting comes first to the people of Insomnia, and his teenage drama must come second - as a matter of fact, I know he does not understand this, because he completely ignores the briefing folders I have given to him,"

Noctis' features slack into reflective irritation as Ignis' words wash over him. Reputation, King in waiting, duty - all the listed things Noctis understood in more ways than Ignis gave him due credit for. It was not a comprehension issue on the young man's behalf; it was an issue of acceptance. _King in waiting_ implied to Noctis more than inheriting a throne and the troubles associated with it - it cast instead a bright spotlight upon the unrelenting reality of his father's mortality. The man whom he loved so dearly, yet always had to share with millions of others, torn in millions of those different directions…the briefing outlines spelled out a message clear enough: _your father is dying, Noctis_ , _and much sooner rather than much later_.

Noctis sniffs, bringing his hand from his doorknob to quickly rub the welling wetness in the corners of his stinging eyes.

' _There I go being the wuss again, I guess,'_

A swell of emotion engulfs Noctis as the clarity of a sudden revelation captivates his thoughts, drowning out the discussion of the two men outside: _None of this was worth losing his father_. He surveys his bedroom in disgust - The swirling grey and white marble stone upon which he currently sat slumped, crafted by the finest smiths in the region - the body length mirror, whose frame was ordained entirely in the handcrafted, gold-plated skulls of Insomnia - the chandelier, whose dangling crystals cast the last remaining sunspots of the day before sunset across his royal black and silver wallpaper - the entire armory of artisan crafted weapons spilling haphazardly out of a sturdy, iron chest in the corner - the heavy oak garderobe over twice Noctis' height, housing the highest quality clothes available. The hundreds of staff whom minded Noctis on a daily basis, the three hundred-roomed palace that towered about the entire kingdom. The riches and wealth accumulated by the Caelum family over generations; none of the regal allowances Noctis relished were worth the life of his father.

Noctis' desire to transfer to a public school was only a manifestation of his ever-growing desire to strip himself of his name, his status, his _fate_.

" _I think it would be a great idea to support Noctis' desire, your Highness," Ignis stated to King Regis earlier in May. "And you know how little I say such a thing. It will give him an opportunity to relate to his countrymen, and for them to relate to him - plus it would give Noctis a chance to socialize with people his own age, and have the chance to see what issues plague the teenagers of Insomnia,"_

If only it meant being a normal teenager who did not also have to consider every emergency evacuation scenario for his people in addition to his grades. If only he were able to focus on merely having his first kiss with Luna, and asking her to the Spring Festival, rather than having to be her partner in banishing heavenly Darkness. If only he were able to sit around in his underwear, eating cup noodles and playing video games with his friends, rather than flinging around swords and having nary a friend at all. If only he were allowed to grow old with his father, rather than grow _into_ his father's shell - Noctis would gladly give all he possessed in the world for this.

His first year at a public high school, he realizes, was the closest to his dream of achieving normalcy he would ever get - yet the lack of friends and bullying at worst, and the constant stares and reminder of his royal status at best, proved that even kings had a limit upon the granting of their wishes.

He could not think of a way to transform into a normal young man and maintain his closeness with Ignis and Gladio - his two slightly older personal staff who nagged him dutifully without end, though whom Noctis loved regardless like brothers. Perhaps he wouldn't truly trade it _all_ \- all but them, perhaps.

Noctis stands, his fists balled in frustration - the ivory grandfather clock in the corner of his room chimes six; he had still not told his father about the incident with Maximus. What made things exponentially worse, however, more than any words of punishment his father might utter, was Gladio's belief that Noctis merely finished a problem a bully started. This was technically true, although Noctis had admittedly thrown the first and _only_ punch, angry over the insensitive comments the other had made toward his father's health.

"Heh, I can't even do high school right," he smirks, eyes lingering on a pile of fishing equipment slowly falling out of the closet. "How am I supposed to become a _king_?"

_Tap Tap Tap_

"May I come in?" Ignis' muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

"Sure, Ig," Noctis sighs, falling onto his velvet black sofa, stretching along it coolly.

"Don't mind me not having a seat, I suppose," Ignis raises his eyebrows, and Noctis dramatically swings his legs to the floor.

"Mm - you -"

"Still haven't told my dad - _I know_ ,"

"…Haven't come to dinner, actually," Ignis pompously corrects. "Though I suppose I now see _why_ you've missed my dozens of calls,"

"Sorry…"

"Don't apologize!" Ignis adjusts his glasses, the two sitting in silence for a brief moment. "This will seem quite out of character from me," he begins again. "But I think you are vastly over thinking what happened today,"

"Where's the real _Ignis_ , you Niflheim Spy?" Noctis sneers, chuckling beside himself.

"Truly, Noct. I know _everything_ seems desperate as a teenager, but this time in a year, we will be laughing about December seventh,"

' _Everything seems desperate as a teenager…_ ' Noctis internally reflects.

"Everyone hates me there, Ignis," he blurts, surprised even with himself how quickly the confession tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Ignis furrows his brow, studying the prince.

"You were right, as always,"

"Right about _what_ , I seem to recall me supporting your decision to transfer before your father,"

"Yeah, I guess you're right…"

"Listen, Noct. The only difference between you and every other teenager in a public school in Insomnia is that they dealt through these very kinks as freshman years ago,"

"Yeah, it's the late onset frosh syndrome, not the whole _prince_ thing," Noctis laughs again. "You know, I love you Iggy, I do, but _you_ were never even a normal teenager, you've always been a bit of a priss, even when I was little - you don't know what it's like, either - you went Lucis Friends Day School like all the other rich kids,"

"I suppose you're right, I did have as unique an experience as you did - but you manage to find your way in the end…"

"I can't really come to you about girl problems,"

"Nonsense, Noct!" Ignis scoffs, flustered and suddenly flushed. "I had my fleeting schoolboy romances!"

"Don't - wanna hear it," Noctis grins.

" _Is_ there a young lady?"

"No? I mean, no, but that's kind of the problem…everyone else has a friends, a girl they like, they go out and do who _knows_ what - and that's the thing, I really don't know _what_ they do,"

"To tell you the truth, I couldn't say myself," Ignis sighs. "Perhaps we ought to both work on the socialization aspect of your studies,"

"But that's the thing, no one else _has_ to study how to make friends. I think that's my problem,"

"So, what do you suggest we do, Noct?"

"I dunno, just…wait out the semester, and go back to being home schooled after January…"

"Now Noct, don't give up so easily! Come, next week is the last week before Winter Recess. You never know what Monday may bring. Tough it out, as Gladio says, and we can deal with is all as it comes,"

"Yup," Noctis sighs.

"Honestly though, come to dinner, Noct," Ignis insists, standing up and straightening his suit jacket. "There's no amount of teenage angst in the world that can ignore an empty stomach."

* * *

Luna scratches behind the ears of the two dogs who sit curled against her legs on the couch, giggling quietly to herself as she re-reads the notebook once more.

"…Stop _scaring_ me…I've never gotten _scary_ before," she rereads the answer from the one Umbra confirmed to be _Prompto_ , a classmate of Noctis'. "We'll have to be most careful about how we conduct business in the future, hmm?"

"What providence do you wish to invoke with the line, _Fate of Eos_?" Gentiana whispers, watching as Luna shuts the journal, her features growing more serious. "I'm not one for white lies and you know this. I am a woman of my word, and do not like to take my abilities or duties for granted, but I felt I did what must be done,"

"Such is the role of the Oracle - but does that mean you do not believe your tidings to be true?"

Luna, even with Gentiana's blessing, swallowed much of her own better judgment before sending Umbra to revisit the unsuspecting civilian boy whom the dog claimed had been the only one to stand by Noctis' side during a particularly nasty altercation. She truly worried for the younger of the two of them. Though Luna had always been the more mature of the two of them since childhood, she could not help but notice that, even as Noctis grew older, his sensitivities and moody nature still ruled over the broader scale of his emotions. As much as she loved and cherished their close continued relationship and their memories, she could not deny the obvious growing up Noctis had yet to do in so little time.

' _I suppose it is easier to grow up whilst held in captivity'_ she admits internally, careful not to judge the young man too harshly. _'Yet is it evermore my duty to support the king, and lending myself to assist in his personal growth is as much a service as anything I may do with the Gods'._

Even after four months, Noctis still had not made a single friend, as alleged through his weekly correspondence with him through their journal. Umbra had reported to his owner that while much of the blame rested upon the fickle social ticks of teenagers, Noctis did little to bridge the gap of culture shock that divided him from building connections outside of those such as herself, Ignis, Gladio, and his father.

"I did what I did to help shape Noctis into the king he needs to be to fulfil his destiny when the time comes," Luna starts out loud. "I know the rules of correspondence with commoners - and there was indeed some truth to my words. A Noctis with a friend as valuable as I'm certain this Prompto may prove to be, could be the single defining factor between his successful ascension and a world of Darkness. It is just that one cannot merely implore to a teenage boy, _'can you be Noctis' friend so he can actually have one?'_. You cannot say that, no - you must appeal to his sense of adventure, strength - even you must admit Gentiana, that _'the fate of the world rests in your hands'_ is a lot more convincing of an argument to such insecure souls than _'please befriend the quiet, lonely boy, because a kind lady far away, who is his only friends, asks this of you'_!"

"You protest too much, Lady Lunafreya," Gentiana whispers, closing her eyes. "I do not begrudge you of your ultimate decision. I trust your rationale as Oracle to only make the wisest choice,"

"I hope your faith proves fruitful," Luna sighs. Luna only had the Umbra card available to play a couple times toward civilians before her cover was blown before the Imperials, thus she could not send invites to every boy in the Kingdom of Insomnia. _'Although,'_ she muses to herself. _'You do not spend your whole life coercing Gods to do your bidding without learning how to find the right vocabulary to persuade a seventeen year old boy to talk to someone.'_

* * *

The subzero temperatures had finally snapped back to above freezing, though with the rise in temperature came a mountain's worth of snow. When Prompto's alarm sounded at 5:45 am (the alarm was ultimately useless, as he'd been unable to sleep due to nerves as it was), and his cellphone showed no signs of school closures, he reluctantly began his morning routine; admittedly with more vigor given the mission that lies ahead of him.

Friday and Saturday night (not Sunday as, once again, the blonde had been too racked by nerves to sleep) had been plagued of nightmares of dogs at his window, dragging him through the dark of the streets and into the pages of the literary prison that was its journal. He drowned in Kelly green ink seas, and attempted to dodge silver pens trying to impale him. He'd even attempted to take his mind off the trauma by going out to take pictures - though every animal he encountered sent him running, after a quick snapshot, lest they too impose a quest upon him.

He doesn't even bother with a towel after he rushes out of the shower, moving at such a speed throughout the room that the wind dries him quickly.

' _Shirt - come on man, totally do not grab one off the floor. Let's grab a fresh one mom starched, I guess - I only have my green tie today, guess it's the navy blazer instead of the black - shit, my socks!'_

Prompto tears up his whole entire room - still disorganized from his frantic searching for the book on Friday - in an attempt to find his black trouser uniform socks. Much to his dismay, the clock beeps signaling 6 am, meaning the bus would leave in fifteen minutes' time.

"Ohhh," Prompto grimaces, holding up dirty, white, knee-length boot socks adorned with chocobos. He groans as he practice paces in the mirror, his trousers lifting up just enough with each step to flash the grody, childish stockings.

"Maybe he won't be looking at my feet, anyway!" he shrieks, slinging his school bag over his shoulder and tearing down the stairs and into the kitchen. His parents were not yet awake, though breakfast had been set on the table for him the night before - rice pudding in a saran wrapped bowl, lightly topped with cinnamon and sugar, though even glancing at the sludge makes what little dinner he'd managed to consume the night before well up in his esophagus-

He darts past the table, grabbing instead his set of house keys, gripping them so tightly in his hands that they gouge indents into his sweaty palms.

' _Okay - here we go'_

The whole entire city was covered in three feet of snow, Prompto immediately realizes as he opens up their front door. He tucks his scarf into his peacoat collar, pressing on regardless. He can feel as the crunchy snow melts through his oxford shoes, silently thankful for the curse that'd forced him to opt for the chocobo boot socks - although they were wet, they ultimately protected his feet from numbness.

The city was silent and completely dark - rose gold patches of light speckle the quilt of snow that adorns every surface. A snow plow slowly rumbles past, pushing snow from the street and onto the already heavy sidewalks.

' _What if Noctis doesn't even show up to school today?!'_

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

' _Then Eos is gonna have to suffer, because I'll be joining his hate club too…'_

Were it not for his promise in the book, Prompto would have merely hit the alarm and rolled back over in an attempt to catch some sleep. _'What's so important about Monday that I can't tell Noctis on Tuesday?'_ he wondered, though images of hellhounds coming to collect his soul for breaking his promise swarmed his mind the longer he tried to fall back asleep, his anxieties winning in the end and pushing him out of bed.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

"Ooof!" Prompto plants into the snow, his non-skid dress shoes having slipped on a particularly rough patch of ice. "Of course Municipal High is the last school to get the plow," Prompto spits, looking up at the untreated hill leading to the campus. Friends of Lucis Day School, the school he had attended with Noctis prior to Municipal, was always the _first_ school treated, and always the _first_ school with classes cancelled in the event of bad weather. He picks himself back up, brushing snow off his front, the hair he'd meticulously styled not even forty minutes ago letting loose of the gel hold.

"I hate this ghetto ass school sometimes,"

Prompto pants as he finally reaches the top, looking around the small courtyard - the very courtyard in which he'd last seen Umbra and Noctis on Friday - completely unrecognizable. The four marble, backless benches arranged in a rectangular fashion are too covered in snow to sit upon, and too cold and wet to sit upon further, even when brushed.

The bushes circling the benches themselves are hidden under mounds of ice, Prompto notes - finding no way for Umbra to sneak through them with reinforcements and eat him without warning. A single set of footsteps leads from across the courtyard to the doors leading to the main atrium - meaning that at the very least a janitor or groundskeeper had shown up.

Prompto had decided to arrive a good half hour early, in an attempt to run in to Noctis and fulfil his obligation to the conversation sooner as opposed to later. Yet as the time toward the first bell draws nearer and nearer and no students show up, Prompto begins to grow restless.

"Wooo, okay, Prompto, you got this…" he breathes, looking around expectantly for Noctis - or rather any student at the current rate. "Alright…uh, hey, man? H-how was your uh, weekend?! No, that's stupid - 'Sup, Noct? Ugh, Gods, no! - You uh, get the sociology homework? - no, that's awful too!" Prompto mumbles, attempting to practice his in to the conversation.

The persistent quiet is finally broken by sounds other than Prompto's nervous recitation of his lines - a handful of senior girls, completely bundled even in non-dresscode outwear, wade through the thigh high snow toward the metal doors, rushing into the atrium and stomping themselves free of snow behind the glass windows.

' _I guess parents just decided not to send their kids, even if school's not cancelled'_ Prompto assumes, watching as sparse crowds of disgruntled students who'd been forced out of the house walk in through the doors past him without a single word.

Prompto jumps as his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_I wish I could have told you to take today off because of the weather sweetie, but your father and I are proud of your dedication to your studies! Have a good, snowy day at school! Love Mommy :-)_

' _Studies alright,'_

What few students intending to show up slowly cease to file in after a half an hour passes, with Noctis not showing up amongst the crowd.

' _Maybe he got suspended? Maybe his father pulled him out of school?'_ Prompto wonders, suddenly overwhelmed with incredulous disgust; there he stood, knee deep in snow, the legs of his slacks soaked to his frozen shins, _talking to himself_ , when he'd prefer to be in bed were it not for a dog with a _book_ telling him to talk to Noctis to _save the world._ All the more shameful was his enthusiasm about finally grabbing the young man's undivided attention that he would go so far as to entertain it all.

"I'm such an idiot," Prompto sniffs, shaking his head slowly as he considers his next course of action. Naturally it had occurred to him that Noctis may not show up - though what to do in the scenario that he did not show up was something Prompto had _not_ given much thought to.

"I really am such a goddamn idiot," he chokes, nearly falling over, his legs frozen from him having remained stationary for so long. It wasn't worth it to otherwise stay for class, as too few students had shown up for lessons to resume.

Prompto is taken aback by the loud crunch his shoes made against the snow, as even in his anger his strides still remain muffled.

' _Wait a minute - those are tires…'_

The rumbling and crushing sounds come to halt, and Prompto looks up quickly to so as to not get run over.

' _That's - that's Noctis' car-!'_

"You'll thank me for my insistence that you learn fortitude by going to school in such conditions," a rather haughty voice purrs as a car door slams, a young black-haired man exiting the back seat of the sleek, jet black sedan with tinted windows. One never would have known the car had just driven though hills of snow - its exterior is completely de-iced, save for small streaks of condensation rolling slowly down the hood. Its tires have no snow caught in their treads, and no salt streaks the side.

"Remember our conversation at breakfast, Noct!" the same voice calls a bit more firmly to a young man with his back turned to the driver, stalking away from the car without another word.

' _This is it'_ Prompto's heart beats quickly in his throat, neither the driver of the car, which rolls back down the hill, nor Noctis himself having taken notice of the single other living thing in the vicinity. _'There he is'_.

" _Noctisssss_!" Prompto calls after the young man, completely unaware of how ridiculous his frozen stride looks as he attempts to vault over three feet of snow with each pace. Noctis stops, much to Prompto's surprise. _'Off to a good start_ '.

"H….h….hey…" Prompto pants, his face swollen and maroon, partially from frostbite, partially from nerves. Noctis gives the young man a half-hearted, anxious smile before turning back toward the double doors.

" _WAIT!_ I - I mean - hold on a second… _"_ Prompto swallows quietly. "I - I need to talk to you…"

"…Ooookay?" Noctis replies sarcastically, and Prompto follows the other's eyes as they survey his ridiculous appearance up and down.

"It's kind of important,"

"So important that we need to stand out _here_ in the _snow_ , instead of inside, where class has already started?"

Prompto instantly flushes further; he knows the prince's already short rope was wearing thin.

"…Actually, yeah, it is," Prompto snaps back, pleased to see Noctis' eyes widen slightly from surprise at Prompto's quip. Almost at once, all of his practiced lines go out the window. "So - uh, this is gonna sound crazy, and I get it - but - on Friday, a - a dog came to my house,"

" _Okay_?" Noctis snaps.

"But it wasn't just a-any dog - it - it was - urp," Prompto gags, clearly growing nervous. Noctis' brow furrows slightly, and Prompto gulps before pressing forward. "It was that dog, Umbra -"

" _Umbra_ ," Noctis repeats in sarcastic disbelief, folding his arms.

"And he had – he had this _book_ –"

"A _book_ -"

"And in the book, it said that I needed to talk to you today," Prompto finishes lamely, growing more concerned with every second Noctis continued his silence.

"…What the hell is wrong with you people?!" Noctis hisses, and Prompto's stomach drops - this was the precise reaction he did not want to elicit from the prince. " _WHY THE HELL CAN'T YOU GUYS JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?! WHO PUT YOU UP TO THIS?!"_ Noctis roars, grabbing Prompto by his front before flinging him away, Prompto falling into the snow.

" _YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! YOU, AND MAXIMUS, AND EVERYONE ELSE?! HUH? STALKING ME FOR DAYS, WATCHING MY EVERY MOVE?! SO BORED WITH YOUR OWN LIVES THAT YOU CARE MORE ABOUT A DOG THAN YOUR OWN PATHETIC SELVES_?!"

All Prompto can do is stare silently as Noctis attempts to control his anger, his shouts not echoing only because of the snow.

" _WELL CONGRATULATIONS! EVERYONE KNOWS THE DAMN DOG'S NAME, DOES THAT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT NOBODY KNOWS YOURS_?! _OR IS THE EX-FAT KID REALLY WHAT'S ON YOUR BIRTH CERTIFICATE?!"_ Noctis continues, Prompto's lip quivering. Suddenly it had all made sense, in some otherworldly way. Prompto no longer cared about the dog, or the book, or any message. All he saw before him was the prince, who had once been so kind and friendly to him so long ago, clearly demonstrate what Prompto had always feared; he had never even registered who Prompto was even when they _were_ better acquainted as children.

Prompto feels a gurgling sickness in his stomach as he hoists himself up from the snow, and he is certain he is to be sick - but when he opens his mouth, it is not vomit that comes up, but instead a passionate burning of welled up emotion and insecurities that brewed long within him. It was his last attempt to hold up his end of his agreement, even if it meant that it had ultimately failed, and the only thing the two young men were ultimately to exchange was fists. Almost at once, with divine clarity, he knew what to say.

"Do you want to know _why_ everyone calls me the ex-fat kid?!" Prompto starts, slowly inching closer to Noctis.

" _Don't you come near me -!"_

"Do you want to know _why_ I went from no friends, to what little I _do_ have now?! Because of _you_!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Noctis shouts, aggressively, but clearly engaged.

"Do I have your attention _now_ , highness?!" Prompto continues dramatically, surprised even with himself where it all comes from. "You don't remember me _before_ I was the ex-fat kid?!"

" _How the hell should I know you?!"_

"Is it just _me_ you don't remember from Friends of Lucis Day School? Or do we _all_ get the blessing of not being important enough to Prince _fucking Noctis_!" Prompto shouts, meeting Noctis in his aggression, who astonishingly does not take the invitation to do anything other than listen quietly.

"You don't remember me well enough even from last damn _Friday_ to think that I was the only person who stopped you from getting expelled?! You don't remember me well enough to know that after all the bullying I went through, that I would never do it to someone else?! You really must not remember _Prompto the fatty_ if all you can see is the Ex-Fucking-Fat Kid!"

" _Wait…Promp…Prompto the Fatty - he - the blonde kid, glasses -"_

"Do you want to know why I'm the ex-fat kid now, Noctis?! Because of _you_! Because you were the only one who treated me like I was a human being at that awful fucking snobfest! You inspired me to do better, I thought, if he's this nice to me when no one else wants to be seen with me, maybe he'll be my friend if I lose weight! And I _did_ lose it, because of _you_! Because you were the only one in that whole place who didn't give a damn - and now look at you, you're a fucking _asshole_! A lot of them hate you because you're too good for everybody! You never say a word to any of us! You never -" Prompto stops abruptly, partially to get control of his wildly spiraling accusations, shocked that Noctis does not take a swing, or yell back, but simply stares at the ground.

"I'm not saying how they treat you in there is right," Prompto adds shortly. "But have you ever thought that there are others of us in the building who know what that feels like?! Because you were the one who showed me, a long time ago, that people could be different. I'd never forgotten you, Noctis. You simply treating me like I was human was enough to turn my whole life around. It changed me to the point that I've done nothing but think about _you,_ every day, whether or not you remembered me. When I saw you, in-in August…"

Noctis still doesn't lift his gaze to meet Prompto's, who in turn does not take his eyes off Noctis.

"…when I saw you, all I've wanted to do is ask you if you remember me. But it's clear how you only know me as the ex fat kid or the fatty or whatever - you clearly didn't know I was Prompto then and you _sure_ as hell don't know that I'm Prompto now! This _whole_ time, I've idolized you, and tried to be what you were to me to other people, and you know what? I see you're not that person - I got harassed all weekend by your crazy dog, jumping in my window, dropping books on my bed telling me to - to - ugh - and here I am, marching through the snow, waiting for you until I freeze to death, so I can talk to you, so I can - forget it, you know what, forget it," Prompto trails off, feeling a thousand times lighter. Even if it all came to a crashing halt - the book and Umbra, the possibility of being Noctis' friend, and his admiring image of the prince being shattered, even if the hellhounds swallowed the whole world into Darkness because of his failure to gain Noctis' trust, there was something to be said of finally obtaining closure.

Yet Prompto does not continue to walk away as his flaring temper wishes he would when he hears a single sniff from Noctis' direction. "…Noct?" Prompto whispers, approaching his classmate slowly as Noctis sucks air sharply through his teeth, shoulders heaving.

Prompto had expected a myriad of reactions from the prince due to his rant – but crying had not been one of them. He cannot even say for certain Noctis remembers what had spurned the entire argument, for he is so engulfed in his own emotions he does not notice Prompto stands inches away from him.

' _Maybe this is what that book thing was about…'_ Prompto wonders silently. Perhaps the warning was to be heeded because someone, or some divine power, cared about and understood Noctis well enough to know that he needed the same dose of kindness that helped Prompto flourish – and that he could be the only one to truly understand to administer it. Even if Noctis did not remember, Prompto did, and his affection towards the young man had already driven him thus far.

Whether or not his theory was correct, or a result of adrenaline-riddled delirium, or hypothermic madness, Prompto snakes his arms around the crying prince, pulling him closer against him. Noctis instantly shudders into the embrace, his sobs slowly easing into even hiccups, bringing his own arms to wrap tightly around Prompto –- the one person who had shown Noctis any true kindness, even if the prince felt he did not deserve it.

* * *

 


	3. The Royal Mafia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ty, Anna!)  
> Just a note! 
> 
> Cindy appears in this story before the bros meet her in the game. Cid and Regis still are not friends, however.

Fat flecks of snowflakes begin to flutter slowly from the sky, bedazzling the shoulders of their blazers like natural, watery rhinestones. The tiny icicles that dangle off Prompto's sore, red nose where his eyes had been watering, prick his upper lip every time he takes in a gasp of air. Already ten minutes have passed since Prompto took the sobbing Noctis into his arms, such a reaction having felt to have been the right one at the time.

He cannot help but silently drink in every detail of the young man he'd admired for so long; where Prompto's hair was far from a social travesty, he cannot help but notice how obvious it is his mother is his barber. Each strand of Noctis' hair seems deliberately cut, tailored, and perfectly coiffed - clearly the work of a royal stylist. His entire uniform is free of wrinkles, compared to the subtle stubborn ones Prompto's mother could never iron out of his shirts, despite hours' worth of attempts.

Noctis' skin blemishes only where it slowly begins to crack, red from tears streaming in the cold - compared to Prompto's heavily freckled nose and cheeks. While Prompto could say he took pride in his lithe, muscular frame, it was clear that Noctis too, was in very athletic shape as well. What could it have possibly been, Promptis wonders, that drove the prince to cower behind such crippling social insecurity, much like Prompto himself?

"I - I don't know what came over me,"

Prompto knows Noctis senses his sudden start at the sound of his voice, the blonde startled out of a near fifteen minute silence by Noctis' mumblings. The two young men let one another go, Noctis pointedly avoiding Prompto's gaze.

"I'm sorry for what I said before -"

"I-it's alrig-"

"I'm gonna go," Noctis states, turning quickly toward the double doors before Prompto can utter another word. The prince opens them with an impressive swiftness, considering yet more unshoveled snow piles up in front of the doors themselves. Before Prompto can even being to protest, taking twice the amount of time it took Noctis to open up the doors to the atrium, the young man's classmate seems to disappear soundlessly. Slinging the soaking wet blazer over his shoulder, Prompto sighs heavily as his eyes begin to lose their focus as they stare down the empty, silent corridor.

_'At least it's over with.'_

Almost as if in a daze, Promtpo lets his feet carry him up the stairs without even deciding on a destination- though he is quick to realize he had lost track of time almost entirely. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, the minute on the display turning from 8:15 to 16 almost instantaneously.

_'Were we - was I - really out there for like, forty five minutes?!'_

He shivers as his sopping clothes begin to dry in the heat of the building, Prompto hardly unable to comprehend the lost time as he stares down at the screen. School would only be in session another two hours, the blonde giving serious consideration to the thought of merely making the trek back home.

 _'Maybe I should find Noct...'_ Prompto's stomach squirms at the thought of engaging Noctis anew. He stands stupefied in the hallway, uncertain as to whether or not he should attempt to find his assuredly distraught classmate, or salvage some semblance of instruction out of the last half hour of chemistry.

 _'Maybe he went to class already...'_  Prompto nods, setting toward the chemistry classroom with a renewed sense of deliberation. It is with a pang of disappointment, however, that Prompto opens the chemistry lab's door, surveying only three students who had made the distinct effort to show up - Noctis not being one of them.

"Happy you could make it, Prompto," a warm, smoky voice of an older woman calls from the board, Mrs. Livia Matella - natural sciences department head, chemistry teacher, and student council faculty lisason. "I know the weather is quite nasty. As you can see, we cannot do much with just yourself, Aelia, Philo, and Crassius," Her thick, silver hair is tied back neatly behind a red ribbon, her coat free of stains, both indications of a lack of explosions - and thus a lack of a lesson.

"Hey, Mrs. Matella," Prompto waves, throwing quick ones to his three classmates, who nod back before looking down at their textbooks once more. "Y-you haven't seen Noctis, have you?" he asks quietly, though not so quiet the other three could not hear - and be intrigued by - his question.

"…No, I'm afraid I have not," Mrs. Matella surveys him rather sternly. Prompto steels his attention on his teacher, growing hot from the interested stares the other three cast upon him at the mention of Noctis - especially Aelia and Philo. "I have not seen the prince since Friday, and usually his steward Ignis is excellent about phoning in about Noctis' absences beforehand. I must admit I worry about that child sometimes,"

Prompto nods wordlessly before taking to his seat, closing his eyes in silent exasperation as Aelia instantly inches her chair closer to the blonde the moment he finds his chair.

"What's the deal with Noctis?!" She presses inquisitively, and Prompto can see as Philo rubs his forehead sheepishly to her right.

"I-I dunno…" Prompto croaks quickly, his voice nearly cracking. This explanation proves to be miraculously enough for the red head, who plops back into her own seat and whispers buzzily with her best friend, Prompto thankful she does not insist on pressing further. "I - just - you know, student council and all - making sure to account for - colleagues, I guess,"

"And that is why we are lucky to have a young man as engaged with his community as you on the council, Mr. Argentum," Mrs. Matella notes, leaving the blonde to spend the remaining two hours left of the school day wondering about Noctis in silence.

* * *

The final bell chimes, signaling the end of the school day. Although the snow had stopped around noon, the plow trucks still had yet to make it to school grounds, and what few students made it to class audibly groan as the commute situation had not improved. Noctis crouches at the sound of voices below, pressing himself closer against the wall of the maintenance closet upon the roof in which he'd chosen to spend the remainder of the school day.

 _'Gladio'll be glad to hear I warped accurately for the first time,'_  he chuckles to himself, slowly peeking his head over the side of the roof to see at least a fifty foot drop below him should his warping _down_ prove less accurate than the warping up.

 _'It'll take them forever to leave...'_   Noctis whines internally, rolling his eyes and pulling out his cellphone and forcing himself to play more King's Knight, despite having grown bored of the game over the last two hour binge session. He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head vigorously as he tries to push memories of the morning out of his head.

 _You're an asshole!_ A distant version of the blonde's earlier words echo loudly in his mind. _Even if you don't remember me, I remember you…I've done nothing but look up to you, after all these years…you were the one who taught me that people could be different…_

Noctis slams his phone down in frustration as he is overcome by his own thoughts, rubbing his throbbing forehead he cradles in his hand. It was all Noctis could do to half-heartedly convince himself that the blonde had been mistaken - yet his scathing words had _indeed_ brought up memories of a Prompto from middle school, who had been excessively overweight, bullied, and shy…

Noctis had merely assumed the Prompto in his classes to be a different one with a merely coincidental backstory - after all, he had gone to school with many a _Cassius_ and _Octavia_ , thus the thought of there being a second _Prompto_ in all of Insomnia had not struck him as particularly unorthodox. While he remembered flashbacks of what seemed like brief conversations with the pudgy nine year old, he still found it hard to understand just why the handful of interactions had left his classmate in awe of him over the years.

Yet, Noctis contemplates, he remembered the first time Gladio had smiled at him quite vividly; he'd stood up for his younger sister, Iris, despite receiving punishment for her misbehavior. This had touched Gladio deeply, and caused him to smile at the then twelve year old Noctis and ruffle his hair.

He also remembered the first time Ignis had beamed at him with pride - when he'd had his homework finished, clothes folded, and floor mopped, all without a reminder, at ten. "Good job, Noct. It's always good to remember that, despite all the staff, the only one truly responsible for you, is _you_ ," he'd said before giving the grinning prince a satisfying high five.

Although the two of them had always seemed so much older than him, they were only three years older than him in reality. Just as Noctis had been bred and groomed for kinghood, Gladio had been reared to be a shield, and Ignis a pedantic advisor at the expense of his own childhood. While those two moments were probably long forgotten to the two men, Noctis cherished them as the true moments with each of them that they'd grown to love him and each other beyond their duties and obligations. Perhaps, Noctis rationalizes, it was that very same feeling of sentimentalism that defined Prompto's world, whilst Noctis had forgotten it all.

The idea that someone could ever look up to him the way he looked up to his own heroes was partially responsible for the vulnerable breakdown he'd displayed in front of his classmate earlier that morning. Where he truly wanted to admit to the blonde just how _important_ such a realization was to him, even if it didn't seem it, he found himself unable to do so. The harsh, but sorely needed words, were also heavy on the prince's conscience; he had been out of line for attacking someone else's insecurities merely because they had attacked his own, especially considering, as Prompto said, he had been the only one to abstain from antagonizing him.

The shame and hurt from the morning led Noctis to completely forget the primary reason why Prompto had approached him in the first place - Umbra visiting him unexpectedly at his house, and, if Prompto's memory was correct, bringing him into the business with the notebook. Noctis attempts to remember what it was Prompto had said exactly, realizing with another twinge of guilt that he'd completely forgotten in his own anger. In his own defense, Umbra had only been another thorn in his reputation's side. The dog's divine peculiarities captured the attention of his tactless classmates, their jokes and relentless onslaught of questions only leading Noctis to talk less and less, considerably so when they already assumed him to think himself above them all because of his status.

 _'I'd really like to know what the hell he was talking about, if Umbra really did visit him…if he even ever wants to talk to me again,'_   Noctis resigns, knowing that he would not want to talk to someone who'd called him fat, then proceeded to cry in his arms before running away, completely unstable.

_'I'm such an idiot.'_

Noctis sighs, his migraine getting the best of him. The courtyard is clear of other students, and Noctis produces a small, blunt broadsword from the corner of the closet.

_'Gods, please don't let me break my neck.'_

He grunts as he throws the sword downward toward the grounds with all his strength, flying instantaneously to his target in a flash of light blue, crystal dust. The landing, while not lethal, is far from smooth; he tumbles a few feet into the snow, rubbing his lower back and wincing before standing up and clenching his fist around the hilt of the sword that now glistens with ice.

Thankfully his school bag had traveled with him without expelling all of its contents. He pulls out his phone as it buzzes twice, his heart skipping a beat.

_Noct, did you get my last text? I am turning the corner to your school now and am on my way to pick you up. Please respond that you are ready – you know I do not like to text and drive._

_Hey Iggy, I'm out front. Sorry, and thanks._

Noctis sends back quickly, licking his lips nervously and folding his arms expectantly. Ignis, always a man of his word, pulls up only a couple minutes later, the Regalia having shown no issue navigating through the snow. It is with a rush of adrenaline that Noctis swings open the back seat door, tossing his bag and sword and instantly clamoring in.

"Why've you got Dad's car?! Where's yours?!" Noctis asks frantically, his hands gripping tightly to the head rests of the front seat. "Is he alright?! Where is he -"

"Relax, Noct, your father is just fine," Ignis assures him smoothly. "Do sit down, though, we need to get back to the castle in good time,"

"Then what's going on? Why do you have his car?" Noctis still interrogates, though cooperating and sprawling out against the black, leather seats.

"Well, your father suspects there is an issue with the rotors. He attempted driving the car last night to a hearing at the church, and said he had trouble braking. I offered to test drive the car myself for a second opinion," Ignis explains, Noctis growing relieved as he processes the explanation. "Your father is a brilliant man, though I am rather certain it is not a rotor issue - I suspect it may just be as simple as black ice on the road,"

"Yeah, dad can overreact like that sometimes," Noctis chuckles, relishing the first smile he'd broken into since the week before.

"Still, I'd rather be safe than sorry myself - I called his mechanic to come in this afternoon to take a look at her,"

"Oh?" Noctis swallows, both from nerves and excitement. "Which one, is it Cindy?" he asks further, the hopefulness in his voice betraying him. He'd found the young woman to be very pretty indeed.

"We'll see whether it is her or her grandfather who answers the call," Ignis smirks, looking back at Noctis in the rearview mirror when the young man does not reply.

"Hey Ignis…pull over a sec," Noctis mumbles, staring out of the tinted window determinedly.

"Everything ok, Noct?"

"Yeah, just - roll down your window."

* * *

 _'I am definitely taking tomorrow off.'_   Prompto huffs, hands in his pockets as he slowly descends down the slippery hill, his shoes causing him to periodically lose his balance. _'And if Umbra is waiting for me for an update, he can wait until tomorrow, too…'_

His thoughts trail off nervously as an all-black car he had never seen before crawls to a slow as it approaches him. Its shiny exterior is immaculate, its windows completely tinted to the point of impenetrability.

 _'Don't look…never look at mobsters…'_ Prompto warns himself under his breath, staring deliberately forward with wide, nervous eyes - though in his attempt to remain unphased at the automobile, he slips into the snow, the car rolling to a halt.

_'Great, now they definitely see me, and now they definitely know I'm nervous - maybe if I just run screaming -'_

_"Excuse me,"_ an accented voice calls toward Prompto, who slowly hoists himself up, slowly turning his head to face the car. The passenger side window is rolled down, a handsome, bespectacled man no older than twenty staring at him humorlessly over his glasses.

"YEAH?!" Prompto attempts to reply coolly, shrieking in high-pitched nervousness instead. The bespectacled driver taps his black leather gloves on the waxed steering wheel, and Prompto gives the man a cursory look over for gang symbols - dressed in a suave, deep blue dress shirt and thin, fitted slacks, this man was the most sharply-dressed mobster Prompto had ever personally seen.

"My passenger is insisting that you two know each other, and I should thus give you a ride,"

_'Holy shit, they must think I killed one of their guys! They have to be mistaken - maybe they think I botched a job, or - lost some money, or - who knows what! And these guys don't take no for an answer-!'_

But Prompto's racing thoughts dissipate immediately as the back seat windows lower as well, Noctis' blue eyes meeting his own.

 _"Noct?"_ Prompto whispers breathlessly, looking back between his driver and the prince himself.

"Surely you do not want to weather this hill on your feet? You seemed to have some trouble before," the driver calls, his voice unmuddled by the soundless engine.

"I -" Prompto meets Noctis' gaze again, who quickly darts his eyes to the floor before Prompto slowly reaches out a hand to grab the back seat door handle.

 _'Either way it's a free ride home, I guess…?'_   Prompto muses anxiously, swinging the door open entirely. He is instantly taken aback within moments of surveying the car. While Noctis had never been one to arrive in anything short of style, this car was certainly the most stylish of them all. The warmth emanating from the dark black, heated leather seats was inviting even before entering the car itself. The dashboard and center console was garnished with perfectly sleek, silvery pearl inlay. In addition to many additional buttons on the dashboard for which Prompto did not know their function, the peripherals were almost space like; the speedometer projected a holographic 0 upon the windshield, a front camera and gps displaying the entire greater Insomnian Metropolitan Area. The floors too, were a deep black leather, the smell rich with a mixture of spicy, earthy cologne and musky cigars.

"Thanks," Prompto whispers as he goes to close the door, completely shocked as it slowly comes to a close itself.

"No problem," Ignis assures him and, much to Prompto's assumption, the car rolls, albeit carefully, down the snowy hill with complete ease. "Noctis insisted I pull over - I hope you have no one waiting on you,"

"…No," he nearly whispers, entirely certain he catches Noctis mouth _'dammit, Ignis!_ ' under his breath before flushing just slightly.

"…Are you a friend of Noctis', then?" Ignis asks after a distinct fifteen seconds of silence, Prompto turning his head to face the prince to his right. Noctis watches Prompto just as intently as Prompto watches him. "…Uhhhhhhhh, _yeah_ …"

"I can tell, you're as shy as the prince himself comes,"

It was Prompto's turn to blush slightly.

"Ahh - you know - I - uh…"

"T-that's Ignis - Ignis is - he - he's my friend, but …" Noctis starts quietly.

"I am also his personal advisor and steward, born slightly before, but raised alongside the prince," Ignis finishes Noctis' thought, who now stares at his hands. "Ignis Scientia."

"I'm - I'm Prompto - Prompto Argentum," Prompto certainly introduces himself loud enough in response to Ignis, yet the two young men in the back do not take their eyes off one another. Noctis is confident in his suspicion Prompto's words were meant more so toward himself.

"The Student Class President of Noctis' year, no?"

"Uh, kinda - might as well be, really," Prompto chuckles, slightly crestfallen to see that Noctis plays on his phone in the corner of eye. "Student council, actually and, uh president of photography club and yearbook,"

"Ah, you hear that Noct? Sounds like a great opportunity to do what we were talking about this morning,"

"Yeah," Noctis grunts softly.

"I was captain of the Culinary Club and a Varsity Lacrosse player back when I was in high school not too long ago," Ignis adds, turning the corner onto one of Insomnia's busiest streets in the business district. "Sure is strange, seeing very few people out, isn't it?"

"Yeah…I'm probably not coming to school tomorrow, even if it is open, to be honest," Prompto laughs, a jolt surging through his stomach as he feels Noctis turn to face him once more.

"Didn't get much done today, then?"

"Nope…"

_Brnnnngt! Return to your Kingdom, Paladin Noctis! Your King Needs You!_

A shrill notification sounds from Noctis' phone, which he scrambles to conceal, Prompto smiling beside himself. "You play King's Knight too?" he asks the black haired boy quietly, who smiles uncomfortably before nodding silently.

"If you find a way to get him to put that damn game down when you're talking to him let _me_ know," Ignis scoffs. Prompto can't help but laugh at the absurdity; rather than notifications for tea time with world leaders or treaty signing, the prince appeared more loyal to the same virtual king Prompto too served than to his actual kingly duties.

The center console buzzes, startling Prompto, though Noctis does not react, and Ignis swipes a screen with his index finger nonchalantly. "Ignis speaking,"

_"Hey there, Iggy and Co., how y'all doin' today?"_

Prompto instantly lurches forward to capture a glimpse of a beautiful, curly haired blonde with piercing hazel eyes, the grease on her face doing nothing to hide her charm.

"Great, glad you were able to receive our call,"

_"You know it ain't nothin', we'd do anything in the world for y'all! Me and Paw Paw are gonna be headin' on over in about an hour, that work for you?"_

"Sure thing Cindy, and thank you again for coming out on such short notice!"

_"Anytime! See y'all in a bit! Hey Prince!"_

"Hey Cindy," Noctis sheepishly, but kindly replies.

_"I bet you're ready to get your royal tail outta this cold!"_

"Ohhh yeah…"

 _"Well alright, be seein' ya!"_ the girl quips before the center screen fades to black once more.

"…Um, excuse me, who was that just now?" Prompto's voice is barely above a squeak.

"That'll be Cindy, granddaughter to our family mechanic," Ignis answers matter of factly.

"Well Noct, you can crash my car _anytime_ ," Prompto whispers.

"Forgive me, Prompto, but Noctis did not tell me where you live,"

"Oh! Yeah!" Prompto starts, completely captivated by the Cindy girl that he had completely neglected to think the relative stranger would need his address, although Prompto is surprised they don't possess the technology to look them up either way.

"I'm on the uh, Alta Semita side of town,"

"Ah, right…"

"72 Invictus Way… they're kinda town housey,"

"Sure thing,"

The three spend the rest of the short car ride in silence, Prompto entirely dumbfounded with the turn of events. Here he sits, in Noctis' car, in the back seat with him even, getting to know his advisor and friends, them getting to know him, and their mechanic - _'Well, we'll get to know each other, hopefully…'_   Prompto blushes - the car rolls to a stop outside of the rectangular strip of plain, brick, rectangular town homes. "This is me," Prompto nods to Ignis, and he quickly grabs his school bag and cellphone. "Thanks so much for the ride,"

"Don't thank me, thank Noct! Though it was no less nice to meet you nonetheless,"

"Same, maybe I'll see you again soon?"

"I don't see why not…" Ignis smiles warmly, giving Prompto a short wave as the blonde places his hand on the handle to exit the car.

"See you at school, Noctis,"

"Yeah…"

Prompto cannot say he expected more of a goodbye from the young man, though his finds himself disappointed regardless. He steps onto the side walk in front of his house, dropping his bag into the snow with a _slushy_ plop whilst searching for his house keys. _'I can't believe he even gave me a ride home….and according to Ignis, it was his idea…'_

"Hey,"

Prompto turns around, jumping slightly at the sight of Noctis standing behind him on the sidewalk in what he tries to exude is coolness. His hands fidget in his pockets. His slightly nervous expression betrays him instantly, albeit Prompto says nothing to call him out.

"H-hey…"

"Sorry about Ignis, he can be kinda lame sometimes…"

"Are you kidding? I think he's kinda funny!" Prompto replies, wondering if this is truly what Noctis ran all the way out of the car to apologize for. "I like him, he seems like a neat guy,"

"He can be a fun hating rule stickler, but I heard that's only when I'm around," Noctis chuckles quietly.

"No, I thought he was pretty cool - but you really gotta introduce me to this Cindy girl!"

"Sure thing, but there's a waiting list," Noctis sneers, smirking smugly.

"Gives me more time to practice what I'm gonna say, and uh - and thanks for the ride, by the way,"

"Y-yeah, sure…"

"Did you really tell him to pull over?" Prompto whispers.

"Well, yeah, I mean - you know…I wasn't just gonna let you walk when I saw you,"

"Well is everything you royals do always so creepy? Jeeze," Prompto laughs. "I mean - you about scared me half to death…"

Prompto and Noctis both share a brief chuckle, Noctis looking briefly at his feet before bringing his eyes to meet Prompto's once more.

"Well, Ignis can't just stop and announce to strangers that the prince is in the car…security thing…which reminds me…did you mean what you said in the car?"

"About King's Knight? Y-yeah, I play every day…" Prompto stammers, though he knows full well what Noctis means.

" _No_ , about - about us being friends, I guess," Noctis surprisingly doesn't take his eyes off the blonde as he had been prone to do the last half hour.

"I mean…" Prompto's face grows red. "If it's okay with you…"

"I gotta head back..." Noctis announces abruptly before the two can give their conversation any thought. He rushes down the street back toward the car, hands still in his pockets, before turning around to face Prompto once more. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"I'm not going to school tomorrow, remember?" Prompto replies, raising an eyebrow and narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"Yeah, but I'll see you _tomorrow_ , right?" Noctis reiterates, Prompto nodding slowly.

"…Yeah. See you tomorrow… _Noct_ ," the blonde whispers, still nodding.

"See you tomorrow, Prompto," Noctis smiles before jogging back to the car, Ignis sticking a hand out of the driver's side window, tapping at the watch on his wrist.


	4. Frantic Texts and Phone Calls

"If the way you were behaving in the car yesterday on the ride home is what you call _socializing_ , it's no wonder you're having a bit of trouble making friends,"

 _"Damn_ Iggy, can you say it again but with _more_ sass next time?" Noctis asks sarcastically, eyebrows raised as he turns back to his cereal. Various juices in crystal pitchers scatter the dark brown dining table. Fruits garnish silver plates, juicy shreds of pulp and skin littering the waxed table's surface where Noctis messily consumed oranges and apples. A maid quietly slips into the dining hall through the swinging door that leads to the kitchens, grimacing at the prince as he loudly slurps a spoonful of bran after dumping half a cup's worth of sugar into the bowl. She places a porcelain jug of water on the table before giving the prince one last scowl before heading back into the kitchen once more.

"I understand you're _ravenous_ after such an early morning training session, but we must get on the road in at least ten minutes so you're not late…"

"Can't talk - _eating_ -" Noctis chomps in between bites. Gladio had clasped a hearty, heavy hand on Noctis' shoulder when the young man had shown up in the training hall to join him in practice at 5:30 in the morning. _"With a training ethic like this, you'll be warpin' reliably in no time,"_ Gladio had praised him, to which Noctis haughtily shrugged, fist bumping his friend before running upstairs to his bathroom to take a post training bath.

While those in the castle took Noctis' sudden early morning enthusiasm to mean he had finally decided to stop procrastinating on his responsibilities, what had truly inspired Noctis to beat his alarm clock was the excitement he harbored toward the thought of hanging out with a new friend - his first one, at that, and what's more, away from his grating classmates.

"Noct, I mean it, lunch time'll be here before you know it, save something for your father,"

"Just because _you_ eat like a bird -" Noctis darkly mumbles.

"No, I eat when it's practical!" Ignis corrects, grabbing his trench coat from the back of his chair and putting it on pointedly to inspire Noctis to do the same.

"Have you even gotten your school bag in order?"

"Ugh, how can you _nag_ so hard at 6:30 in the morning…..?" Noctis whines, scooting his chair backwards and slinking toward a set of pewter doors that lead to Noctis' own private wing.

"Ten years of practice, I suggest you try it,"

"No, I _like_ not being a tight ass," Noctis scoffs, rolling his eyes and smiling.

"I'd be a lot less wound up if you'd make my job easier, you know!" Ignis explains, helping Noctis grab the various scattered school supplies throughout his bedroom. "I have a spa appointment at 11:00, and I have even gotten Cindy to agree to come back over for a game of Tennis at noon,"

 _"What_?!" Noctis pouts, Ignis flashing him a mischievous smile.

"You'd be surprised how much fun I can be when I don't have to babysit,"

"So then is it a date?" Noctis quickly asks, eyes wide with intrigue.

"Mmmm…you could call it something like that…she slipped me her number yesterday after taking a look at your father's car - turns out it was _indeed_ a rotor issue,"

"Well is she at least staying for dinner?" Noctis asks hopefully, Ignis shrugging his shoulders slowly. Noctis could not even say Cindy was his particular type - she was undoubtedly beautiful, and Noctis did not begrudge any opportunities to ogle her, but his crush was still relatively shallow. It helped immensely that Cindy was a fresh, womanly face from _without_ the castle and school.

"We shall see, your father's given the go ahead, either way,"

"So then, he'll actually be around for dinner tonight?"

"I do believe so, lest something comes up,"

"Cindy _and_ dad?" Noctis grins.

"Don't forget yours truly!" Ignis feigns offense, tossing the prince his school bag. "Now come on, we're already running quite late,"

The two stride swiftly down the long hall, the only light stemming from the ornate lamps resting upon side tables every twenty or so feet - Noctis _hated_ the long darkness of winter, the young man sighing as he glances out the twenty feet tall windows that adorn the length of the hallway itself, looking down upon the snow-covered, street lit roads of Insomnia.

 _"Be thankful you live within the Kingdom's walls,"_ his father, King Regis, imparted on him the first time Noctis complained about the shorter days. _"Other lands must deal with the cold and Daemons in such dwindling hours, and we as Lucian kings are blessed with the power to spare our own people such suffering,"_

"Ugh, can't we take the elevator?" Noctis pouts, as Ignis marches through a door, leading to a set of flawless, but arduously long marble stairs, flanked on each side by golden, ornamental bannisters.

"You opted for the stairs by taking five extra minutes at breakfast, your highness,"

Noctis huffs as Ignis refuses to relent, though the young man straightens out as he passes three gruff looking men of his father's Kingsglaive. The men nod stoically before uttering a brief _"Highness, Ignis_ ," to the prince as they ascend themselves, engrossed in muffled conversation with one another.

"Which car are we taking today?" Noctis asks as he jogs quickly down the stairs to catch up with his advisor.

"It'll have to be mine today, your father's meeting a few dignitaries to discuss more terms in Galahd today,"

"Again?" Noctis slumps against his seat, his features crinkled in irritation.

"Well, we have to keep Galahd happy, if we don't want them to rebel against us,"

"You know, I was talking to dad last week about going with him to one of these meetings, maybe sitting in - I'd stay quiet," Noctis adds quickly as he climbs into the backseat of Ignis' car, closing the door - he'd often forgotten that it was only his father's car in which the doors automatically closed.

"Well…" Ignis starts the car, pulling out of their personal garage, driving down the long, private way to the streets beyond the palace. "I suppose it would be a good thing, especially because it seems rather silly to push you to embrace the political reality of your kingdom if you do not see it,"

Noctis perks up; for the first time, Noctis was able to convince the brunette of something without first wearing him down.

"Although you must admit you have a bit more growing up to do beforehand - and school comes first,"

_"There's the catch…"_

"If you can impress me this last week of school, I'll see to it your father is convinced to let you sit in on any hearings he is to hold over winter break,"

"Seriously?" Noctis beams, Ignis smiling before nodding himself, taking a sip of steaming hot, black coffee.

"Sure thing - but you have your end of the bargain to uphold - we'll discuss terms when we're not running so late," Ignis presses a sequence of buttons, swinging open the usual, reinforced gates that separated Lucian property from the city itself.

"But uh…about this week of school…" Noctis begins, having finally found the opening he had been waiting for to mention that he had no intention of going to school that day. Although he could certainly skip off school grounds after being dropped off ( _"Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission,"_ Gladio had once taught him), he did not want to do something so rash that either Ignis or his father dubbed Prompto a bad influence and forbade him from seeing him before getting to know the young man properly.

"About school indeed, now you mention it," Ignis interrupts, Noctis slamming against his seat and immediately pulling out his phone out of reflex; such sentences usually meant a miniature lecture. "That Prompto fellow. I realized something,"

"What's that?"

"Remember when you were in your fourth year at Lucian Friends, and I was in the eighth? It was my last year there,"

"Yeah, of course,"

"Well, his name rung a bell, and I was proven correct - I took out my yearbook, and sure enough the young man was in it - albeit he looked, er, rather _different_ ," Ignis discretely attempts to explain.

"Yeah, he's lost a ton of weight the last eight or so years," Noctis sighs, growing ashamed of himself for referring to him as "the fat kid" for so long.

"So you do remember him?"

"I mean, sorta - it's hard to explain. He remembers me a lot more than I do him," 

"Well of course, any student is going to remember going to school with a _prince_ ," Ignis huffs.

"But apparently I talked to him a few times, so when he saw me here, at Municipal, he was really - _I dunno_ \- I guess uh, weirded out to see me again, like in a small world kinda way," Noctis trails off, uncertain as to what the blonde had meant with his confession the day before himself.

"I see…and you say he is your friend?"

"Kinda, why?" Noctis darts his eyes to Ignis in the driver's seat.

"Well, because the _kinda_ is exactly what confused me. You seemed rather distant in the car yesterday, which is what I wanted to bring up before your _ghastly_ eating habits caught my attention,"

"I was hungry, okay?" Noctis chuckles before continuing quickly, whilst also simultaneously playing King's Knight. "And I was just…goin' through something, it was nothing personal,"

"I see,"

"We kinda just met - well, not _just_ , like - I guess, just started talking a few days ago," Noctis finds it strange the way he condenses such an awkward situation into something so plain sounding. "I'm - I dunno - I'm trying to not be weird,"

"You're _failing_ , Noct. Miserably,"

"Don't you think I know that?" Noctis snaps before rolling his eyes and focusing on his game once more.

"Well he seems to not mind the weirdness so much,"

"Yeah, he's like, the only one,"

"Which makes me want to warn you to be careful of being so desperate for a friend -"

" _Desperate_?! Take that back, Iggy-!" Noctis hisses, looking upward from his phone.

" - That you ignore all warning signs of someone merely looking to get close to you, or your money, or your royal status, or worse, someone looking to commit espionage, or any other kind of classified activity,"

"I - I don't think that thought even crossed his mind, did you even _see_ how nervous he was yesterday when we pulled up yesterday?" Noctis scoffs. 

"I know, and I'm willing to believe he may indeed just be another one of your awkward peers, but understand that there are many within and without these walls who are much better liars than you," Ignis half warns half smiles, Noctis scowling in return. "You tend to wear your lies on your face, is all," Ignis adds.

"Well - then I guess now is as good a time as ever to ask this…" Noctis begins, scratching behind his head and pressing a button and locking his phone. "Do you remember yesterday, when Prompto said he wasn't going to school today, because of the weather?"

"Not particularly, why?"

"…Because, well, I kind of promised I would see him today,"

"You're meeting him after school? But I thought you were excited about dinner with me, Cindy, and your father? I suppose you don't need a ride home, then?"

"Not after school, Iggy - _during_ -" Noctis nervously hints, though there is no doubt Ignis notes the hidden message, his face a lit with shock.

"You mean to cut school to hang out with a boy you've barely even met, and you mean for me to be _okay_ with this on the way to me _taking_   you to school?" 

"Look, Iggy, _please_ -" Noctis pleads, closing his eyes and hissing through his teeth.

"Noct, you cannot be serious…"

"No - look - listen - whatever like - sense you can spare, or whatever...Prompto and I had a conversation yesterday, when you dropped me off, and…" Noctis stammers, flinging himself against the back of the front seats to get closer to his advisor.

"And what…" Ignis questions sternly, turning on a street away from Prompto's house and towards school, much to Noctis' dismay.

"It really stuck with me, and…" Noctis sighs, completely shocked that he is willing to admit the following statement out loud to anyone, to _himself_ , for that matter. "I've never had a friend before. I mean, I have you, and Gladio, and Luna, and all of you - I love you all, you're perfect, you're great," Noctis begins, immediately averting his gaze from Ignis, who watches him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows in the rear-view mirror. "…But I've never had a friend like, _away_ from the castle, that I've ever truly made, like, on my own, and - I said some pretty nasty stuff to Prompto a few days ago, to be honest, and - honestly, the fact he even like -" Noctis stops from frustration, talking himself in circles. "I don't wanna ruin this,"

"…Ruin what, Noct?" Ignis asks quietly.

"Maybe the one friend I'll ever really make, before I have to go straight from being a mini dad into a _real_ dad," his eyes remain fixed on the carpet floor rugs of the back seat.

"...You mean _king_?" Ignis raises a single eyebrow.

"…yeah," Noctis whispers, Ignis groaning before placing his forearms on the steering wheel and resting his head against them.

"Like, I won't have time to do anything else when that happens, when my dad retires,"

Ignis chooses not to correct Noctis, instead listening further.

"We agreed to meet up today, and I don't wanna look like I'm flakin', and like - look, if you let me do this, just this once, I won't ask for another day off, even if I'm sick!" Noctis pleads, Ignis chuckling softly, knowing how poor of a liar the young man is, and that he offers this bargain in earnest.

"You get no more sick days, unless you are truly, genuinely ill, and what that means is up to my discretion,"

"Fine!" Noctis nods in passionate agreement.

"And your homework is to be done every day by 6:15 sharp,"

"Cool,"

"And you're to go _straight_ from homework to practice with Gladio until 7:30,"

"Fine," Noctis agrees again.

"And you're to add an hour to your warping practice every week,"

"Deal," Noctis nods determinedly, leaving Ignis no choice.

"Do _not_ tell your father about this," he grunts, starting the engine and throwing his car into reverse. "Life was so much easier when all you wanted to do was fish," he curses. "What was it again? Invictus Way?"

* * *

Prompto checks his cellphone hastily before getting up from the breakfast table to pull back a red and white paisley curtain and stare out the window expectantly.

"What did we tell you about phones at the table, Prompto?" his mother scolds, his father putting down a bacon and egg sandwich, swallowing before casting the blonde a worried look. "You alright, son? You seem awfully nervous,"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Prompto blatantly lies.

"Look sweetie, we both agreed you could stay home from school today, I hardly doubt your teacher is going to drive past the house to check why you're absent today," his mother chuckles before taking a sip of milk.

"Heh, yeah," Prompto replies halfheartedly, resting his head into the palm of his hand, his arm hoisted upon the small, wooden table by his elbow. He stares at his own distorted reflection in a clear vase, whose slightly browning water seems to do little for the dying daffodils that stick out through its narrow top.

It had only occurred to him upon going to bed the night before that neither he nor Noctis thought to exchange phone numbers. The possibility of texting his classmates for the number existed. Yet he could not think of a worse solution other than alerting a whole group text's worth of classmates that him and Noctis were now on texting level.

Moreover, Prompto could not say with any certainty that his classmates even had Noctis' number - whether for security or personality reasons on behalf of the prince. The young man wasn't listed in the phone book - the latter reason being definitely for security purposes.

 _'Maybe he forgot...'_   Prompto swallows, a sinking feeling welling unpleasantly with the grits in his stomach. _'Or maybe he just forgot to say a time, maybe he doesn't wake up until noon on a day off? I hope he doesn't communicate using Umbra, that shit was weird enough the one time, and I really don't wanna have to explain that one to mom and dad...'_ Prompto further rationalizes, his elbows stretching lengthwise across the circular table, making it even smaller as he rests his chin and entire upper body against it.

 _'_ _But if it were really important, he would have said a time or a place, or something…'_   Prompto sighs, angry that he allows himself to be so easily excited at the prospect of spending the day with the one person in the whole kingdom he had wanted to befriend for years. Yet somehow, he found himself even more upset that the two had come so close to being on at least _some_ positive term, before Prompto had up and ruined it by neglecting to ask for a detail so small and yet so crucial as a phone number.

"Prompto, dear, is there something wrong at school? Is that why you don't want to go?" his mother asks sympathetically, Prompto shaking his head and standing up to bus his plate. He bumps into his father, the two of them grunting as a result. Perhaps it was for the better, Prompto concludes. _'There's no way I could let him into a place like this.'_

His eyes scan the kitchen sadly. Although it is clean, the décor is very old; the yellow acrylic cabinets are stained with water spots from age. The light green counter tops are chipped from years of work top abuse from knives and scraping plates. The small faucet drips unevenly as a result of faulty plumbing. The paisley curtains are sun bleached and out of fashion, and the kitchen itself is barely big enough to hold two of them at the table at a time, let alone three and a friend.

While this was home, and a home that Prompto loves for all its quirks, it is suddenly the last place in all of Eos he'd want to impress upon a prince he was still in the process of trying to befriend - especially considering that he still could not gauge whether he had won Noctis over entirely. 

"There's nothing, but - well…" Prompto starts, his parents looking at him attentively.

"I wanted to - go out with a friend today, is all," Prompto licks his dry lips, eyes staring at his clasped hands that rest upon the table.

"Oh? Is it a friend from school-?"

"Is it a _girlfriend_ -?"

"Yeah and no," Prompto answers each question sheepishly.

"Is it a friend from one of your clubs?"

"No, actually, that's sorta the thing, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. We didn't even agree on a time or place,"

"Son, I'm gonna tell you this once," his father rises, putting a coffee-yellowed mug into the sink. "There's no reason to be nervous. There's nothin' at the school that any of those other boys you're gonna be meetin' got that you haven't got,"

 _'If only you knew which boy I was supposed to be meeting.'_   Prompto chuckles once in disbelief.

"Seriously, Prompto, you're perfect as you are, does one of them have a girlfriend, is that what makes you so nervous? Are you not fashionable in the way you dress, or something?"

"Well, see, about the whole _what I've got_ , thing -" Prompto starts, but the whole kitchen falls silent as a few raps on the door puts a halt to their conversation. Heart racing, Prompto nearly dashes to the front door, his parents exchanging bewildered, silent looks with one another.

"Hey!" Prompto answers breathlessly, in an attempt to do so coolly. He could not say how he knew that Noctis would be standing at his doorway, but for the first time in his life, he is thankful his anxious, suspicious gut feeling is correct.

The prince is dressed in his school uniform - leading Prompto to believe he had either convinced the Ignis fellow he met the day before to drop him off at his house instead, or, Prompto realizes with a pang of guilt, that he had been dropped off, and decided to skip school without telling his advisor.

"Hey, you uh…you ready?" Noctis asks with raised eyebrows, Prompto turning instantly puce purple with embarrassment as he realizes he had never changed out of his Chocobo onesie before breakfast.

"Ehhh, no, but uh -" Prompto stammers, looking around his thankfully straightened up, but equally antiquated living room with internal embarrassment. _'It's now or never, I guess, and I bet he'd think I was less of a loser if he saw my house than if he had to spend all day with me in my not very cool pajamas.'_

"Come in, if you want," Prompto nearly chokes, moving out of the way so the prince may enter, closing the front door behind him.

"Mom, dad, promise me you won't freak out, okay?" Prompto begs before dashing up the stairs quickly.

"Who was that at the door?" his dad questions as his mother rises from the table, heading into the living room.

Prompto stops brushing his teeth momentarily as he hears his mother's muffled shriek through the walls.

 _'God dammit, mom!'_ Prompto spits out the toothpaste, splashing his face with water, his hair passable enough - before he runs out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, looking in his closet anxiously. "Do I put on my uniform, too? So we don't look outta place? Or do I put on something more casual? Ugh, I thought only _girls_ had this kind of stupid drama!" Prompto groans, vowing to never make fun of 'girl problems' again.

"Whatever, I can't keep him waiting!" Prompto shakes his head, grabbing a pair of black skinny jeans and a snuggly fitted red sweater and throwing them quickly over his frame.

"Prompto," his mother immediately reprimands as he rushes down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the living room. "You could have _told_ us that the young man from school you were hoping to meet was Prince _Noctis_ and that he would be coming in,"

"Ummmm..!" Prompto drones, completely frozen with nerves from all directions.

"No, it's - it's ok!" Noctis laughs, shaking the hand of Prompto's father with the same enthusiasm the man had done so the first time.

"Bad timing, honestly, I was going to say something along those lines before he knocked on the door," he replies quickly before grabbing his keys and camera. "Alright, well, bye!" He grins, throwing the front door wide open. "Prompto, wait-!"

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Argentum!" Noctis almost questions as he gives the two a nervous wave before rushing out the door after his classmate.

"Hey, wait up!" Noctis calls, running after the young man who stalks as far away from his house as possible. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just sorry -"

"For what?" Noctis chuckles, Prompto beet red and flustered.

"Nothin', just - the pajamas, my parents, my house -"

"I thought it was all fine - well, the Chocobo pajamas are maybe your thing -" Noctis laughs.

_'Great, two minutes in and he's already making fun of me -'_

"Hey, don't be nervous - I'm - I'm just kidding!" Noctis protests, instantly feeling guilty upon reading the look on the blonde's face. _'Great, two minutes in and I've already messed this up -'_

"So, uh…where do we actually wanna go?" Noctis asks after five minutes of silence, in which they had merely walked straight down Prompto's street.

"I-I dunno, you'd probably know the city and its good spots better than me," Prompto suggests, Noctis scoffing and waving his hand.

"Funny thing is? I actually spend _less_ time around this place, being the prince,"

"How so?"

"Well, I get driven everywhere, so I never just get to wander around, and since I get picked up, I can't even go by foot,"

"Yeah, but at least it's in sweet ass cars, and not on the bus!"

"Yeah, that's always a plus, I guess…but like, I get picked up, and most of the people I know are through castle staff or my father, and everyone expects me to be doing something all the time, so I can't really go _out_ , or anything,"

"Wow, Noct…" Prompto sighs, not entirely certain what he'd figured the Prince's life to be like if not full of duty, obligation, and completely sheltered.

"I don't wanna be a buzzkill,"

"No, you're not!" Prompto excitedly protests, and he cannot help but smile back at the small smile Noctis gives him. "It's actually…really interesting. I guess I'd never really thought about what it must be like to be a prince,"

"Tell me about it," Noctis laughs. "Neither have I,"

"Well, uh Your Highness, you hungry?" Prompto asks after another few seconds of silence.

"…No," Noctis remembers the four bowls of (technically raisin, before he picked them all out) bran, two oranges, three apples, and one banana he'd eaten before leaving with Ignis. "I had a huge breakfast, but it looked like I interrupted you guys in yours,"

"No, I ate a lot too!" Prompto says nonchalantly, not wanting to admit his loss of appetite as connected entirely to nerves. "…You like coffee?"

_'Holy fuck, no...'_

"Yeah, I love it!" Noctis nearly strains, the last thing he wants to be is argumentative or picky whilst things go very well thus far. Moreover, the last thing he wanted to look was immature in front of Prompto.

"Awesome! I know this really cool café nearby - they even put some of my photography up on the walls! The owner is really neat!"

"C-cool," Noctis gags, the thought of coffee alone upsetting his stomach.

"I-I mean we don't have to go -" Prompto insists, mistaking Noctis' disgust for boredom.

"No, it's fine! Come on!" Noctis nods, and the two walk further into the city into a part of the town Noctis comes to realize he had never explored before.

"It's just up here," he explains, opening up a side door Noctis would have completely missed on the brick façade. The two walk up a set of dusty stairs, Noctis coughing right away from the irritation in his throat. The two reach what must be the café, which sits atop the entire second floor of the building. Upon exposed brick halls hang up a combination of avant garde visual art and photography in sporadic clusters.

A string of Christmas lights adorn all the walls in the room, the power of their light dimming as the sun finally begins to come up. Side rooms of the café with extra seating are nestled in asymmetrical grooves where doorless holes break off the brick walls. The cafe itself is flanked by a long counter, behind which metal gadgets, steamers, and dozens of coffee bean jars rest. Hanging above their hands is a large chalkboard displaying  drinks and prices in loopy, handwritten cursive.

 _'How can there be so many ways to drink bean vomit?'_ Noctis shakes his head in disbelief. _'latte - latte machiatto - flat white - holy shit, and there are dozens of places like this in Insomnia?!'_

"Hey Prompto!" A cute, thin girl wearing a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans quips from behind the counter, placing six bags of coffee onto the counter. Her thick, curly black hair is done up in intricate braids that Noctis stares at in admiration. She exudes such a style, he realizes, he'd never seen before.

"Hey, Amelia!" Prompto waves coolly.

"You're here awfully early," she smiles, resting her head in her hands, her elbows upon the counter. Noctis had seen enough unrequited love in school to know right away the Amelia girl flirts with him. Whether it was due to Prompto's poker face or sheer obliviousness, he seems to care very little for it.

"Yeah, decided to take the day off school and hang out with my friend," Prompto gestures to Noctis, who catches himself with a start at the recognition.

"Noctis?! Your _friend_ is Prince Noctis?!" she shrieks, Noctis extending a hand to shake hers, which she does so while jumping up and down.

"Hey…" he smiles nervously beside himself.

"Oh my God, I have never seen you _in person_ before!"

"Yeah, I don't really come out much…"

"Oh my God! _Man_ , you're cute," she purrs, and Noctis' shoulders immediately tense as he stands there nervously, Prompto elbowing him in the ribs with the cheesiest grin the prince had ever seen in his life.

"What can I say? I only keep attractive company," Prompto snaps back with a coolness that seemed so natural to the blonde that Noctis simply cannot comprehend. Amelia laughs at the blonde, eyeing Noctis up and down before heading to the espresso machine. "What'll it be?"

"Umm…oo! How 'bout a….doppio espresso macchiato - extra foam on the side,"

Noctis sneers at the blonde, having no clue what it was he ordered exactly, but he knows it is most likely disgusting.

"And uh….a hot chocolate, please, extra chocolate drizzle and cinnamon on the top," Noctis orders as he always requests to Ignis.

"Sure thing, comin' up!" she smiles, Noctis cringing at the piercing sound of the steaming milk.

Noctis watches silently as Prompto pulls a handful of change and bills from his pocket, which immediately go fluttering everywhere in what Noctis begins to suspect is chronic clumsiness.

"Alright, 4.65 and 2.65 from the both of you! Much as I wish I didn't have to charge the prince and his knight, rules are rules,"

Prompto blushes before uttering a quick "of course!" slamming change on the table and counting it hastily. Noctis slowly pushes the young man out of the way, however, pulling out a shiny credit card and swiping it through the reader. A receipt automatically prints, which Amelia rips and hands to him gently.

"Pleasure doin' business with you, Highness, and I do hope to see you again!" She smiles, placing the cups on the bar.

"Yeah," he nods, the two of them grabbing their drinks. Prompto sits them down at a small table with ottomans for chairs, with portraits above their heads.

"See these? These are mine," Prompto grins, Noctis lifting his head to glimpse up at tasteful images that capture beautiful scenes of nature around Insomnia - birds on branches, dogs and cats in the windows of houses, sunsets - even a picture of the school grounds on which they'd stood the day before, covered in snow.

_'He must have taken that before I arrived…'_

"You took these? You're really talented," Noctis nods from genuine impression.

"Thanks! I'm hoping to get into Lestallum's photography program after high school, I'd really like to take pictures for a wildlife magazine! But I guess that's looking kinda far ahead. For now, I like to come down here every day after school to look through my camera roll, have a drink, just decompress," Prompto visibly relaxes just by detailing his daily routine.

"I can tell, the owner seems to know you pretty well," Noctis cups his hot chocolate, leaning forward and grinning devilishly.

"I dunno, I might be old news if you start coming here with me!"

"What do you mean?"

"Dude, seriously?! Amelia was _totally flirting with you_!" Prompto leans forward and grins as well.

"Nah, it's just 'cause I'm a prince, and besides, she was flirting with you first,"

"Was she really?" Prompto asks smally, sitting up slightly in his seat to take a look back at her.

"I mean, she is kinda cute," Prompto quickly whispers from behind his hand.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Noctis adds, nodding twice.

"There aren't many girls like her in Insomnia, with such dark skin, and thick hair…I wouldn't say no if she asked me out on a date! That is, if I were _allowed_ to date, my parents won't let me, and we're in high school, and she graduated last year already,"

"Yeah, and I'm not allowed to marry anyone who isn't arranged for me, so that's a bust! But then again, you could always have your dates with her here, at the coffee shop!"

"Nah, if we make this our regular spot, they'll assume _we're_ the ones on the date,"

"I, uh-drink a lot of coffee in the mornings, so I might just stick to hot chocolate," Noctis lies, Prompto bursting into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Noctis furrows his brow, Prompto holding his stomach as his laughter finally settles. "You know what's weird? I don't know you very well, Noctis -"

"Just call me Noct -" the prince waves a hand of imperative interruption, Prompto nodding quickly before finishing his thought.

"-but if there's one thing I _do_ know, it's that you're a bad liar…"

Prompto laughs again as Noctis instantly turns red, bringing Prompto's espresso to his nose before grimacing and placing it back down. "I've never liked it, okay?"

"Why not just say so?" Prompto shakes his head, smiling.

"'Cause, I….don't wanna seem childish, I guess…" Noctis shrugs, darting his eyes toward the window.

"Tons of people don't like coffee, Noct, is this like, your first time interacting with the outside world?"

"Honestly…" Noct begins, falling silent as a sudden rush of adrenaline courses through him; he had never needed to bring out his credit card to physically purchase something. Either it had been purchased for him, or brought to him to the castle. Noctis had never once been somewhere unaccompanied by either royalty or staff, and certainly not to places in which many civilians would have a reason or even the clearance to be. He had spent plenty of time out of the country in Tenebrae, but even that was with Luna and her family.

Apart from school, at which he was picked up and dropped off every day, he had never truly interacted with the outside world, as Prompto had bluntly put it.

"Let's just say my credit card is so shiny because I've never had to use it before,"

"And I'm the first!" Prompto cheers, doing an awkward dance that send Noctis snorting into his hot chocolate as he laughs. He cannot pin what it is that instantly clicks with the blonde; perhaps the sheer rawness of his personality and his life, the way he does not bother with 'highnesses', or elevated speech, the way he does not feel the need to conform to or immediately please him, the way he seems to have a purpose in life other than to dote on him…the two had only shared a single drink in a café at 8:45 and already Noctis was happy he had made the choice to swallow his vulnerability and seek the young man out - and even more happy Prompto had chosen to give him a chance to do so.

He hopes, as he wipes the splattered hot chocolate off his mouth, looking at the blonde who in turn looks out the window, that Prompto had the same feelings as well.

Noctis jumps as his pocket vibrates, the young man pulling out his phone.

**I realized how foolish it was to indulge your request**

Noctis groans, rolling his eyes as he swipes down to read the rest of the text.

**Please text me to let me know you are okay. If that Prompto fellow was indeed a trap to get you kidnapped or killed, I will never forgive myself. Your father especially will not. Make sure to avoid going down suspicious alleys and try to remain inconspicuous.**

**Hey, Iggy, I'm fine. Chill out. We're fine. Just having coffee. Well, I'm not. Prompto is. Everyone recognizes me, but everyone is nice, too.**

"Am I boring you?"

"No, not at all! It - It's just Iggy,"

"Oh, the driver!"

"Yeah,"

"Dude, that guy's a riot!" Prompto nearly shouts, the caffeine of his espresso beginning to affect his mannerisms.

"Do not tell him that, then he won't leave me alone about how _cool_ people think he is,"

"And uh, you said you played King's Knight, right?"

"Yeah, I do! My username is -" Noctis rolls his eyes as a wave of vibrations sever his train of thought.

**Bzzt bzzt.**

**Be sure not to give out your phone number, you never know what or to whom Prompto may send it to.**

"…My username is Goldenfishinggod42069 -" Noctis continues, pocketing his cell phone.

" _Nice_ ," Prompto chuckles, opening up the app and typing furiously. Noctis' phone buzzes once more, the prince laughing aloud.

_"Friend Request from Chocolate_Chocoboy1998?!"_

"Dude, I was like _nine_ when I came up with it, okay?!"

"And, uh…" Noctis starts, shaking Ignis' text out of his head. "My number, it's, um…" he grabs hold of Prompto's phone, wanting to at least make the smart decision to disobey Ignis cautiously.

"Wow…I can't believe I'm actually about to hit save on Prince Noctis' number on my phone…"

"And I can't believe I'm actually about to hit save on Prompto's on mine," Noctis grins.

**Bzzt bzzt.**

**Hey GoldenFishingGod42069**

**Bzzt bzzt.**

**Hey Chocolate_Chocobaby4000 or whatever it was**

"Hey, come on, it's not that bad!"

**Bzzt bzzt.**

**Noct, I'd actually feel better if I formally requested that you come home. I am sorry to cut the fun, but I do not want to put you in danger, or face your father's wrath when he realizes I let you skip school to hang out with friends.**

Noctis rolls his eyes.

"That Ignis?"

"Yup," Noctis snaps through clenched teeth. "He wants me to come home," the young man sighs, Prompto biting his bottom lip and raising his eyebrows.

"… _Or_ , you could _not_ go home, and come to the arcade with me?"

Noctis smiles, placing the phone in his pocket, elated his _friend_ volunteered to keep spending time with him.

"Here, Noct - gimmie your phone,"

"Okay," he replies nervously, handing the blonde the device.

 _'He's gonna be hard to beat in King's Knight,'_ Noctis muses as the young man texts rapidly before handing the prince back his phone. He laughs a single, booming laugh before placing his hand over his mouth.

**Yo, Iggy. I promise I won't get Noct assassinated. Also there's no reason for the King to get angry if you just don't tell him. Just sayin'. Love prompto ;)**

"Dude, there's no way I can send this,"

"I think in a way, Noct, he kinda wants you to!"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, just - send it!" Prompto grins, and Noctis hits the send button, instantly turning numb; there was no taking back the message now. "Iggy's gonna flip his shit, Prompto,"

"Good! Maybe he should once in a while!"

"Well, I'm gonna make sure he flips it on you, I'm not dealing with it!"

The two laugh as they get up from the table, waving to Amelia as they head out down the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

"It's kinda funny how some neighborhoods have their sidewalks plowed while others don't, but I imagine your place was done right away," Prompto begins.

"Yeah," Noctis admits sheepishly. "Maybe that's the first thing I can campaign for as I learn more about what's goin' on outside the castle - every neighborhood gets plowed at the same time!"

"King's Law! He said it!" Prompto adds.

"Also, snow days. Forever, all the time,"

"Uhhh yeah, anyway you could get your dad to expedite that one for us?"

"Ughhhh…." Noctis groans, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket. "It's Ignis,"

Prompto takes the phone, hitting the reject button.

"It _was_ Ignis,"

"You're gonna get me in _so_ much trouble and I'm dead ass when I say I'm gonna make sure you suffer the punishment,"

"As long as it's fixing cars with that Cindy girl?"

"I'll have you rub my matron's feet, instead," a smile curls on Noctis' lips.

"Gross, dude!"

The two approach a glass building in which giant, blinking machines go off at random intervals.

"Tell me you've been to the arcade before,"

"Yeah, my dad had the whole thing closed all day for my twelfth birthday," Noctis nods, Prompto hissing through his teeth, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I'm _definitely_ not of any authority to do that, so as long as you don't mind havin' to like, _wait in line_ , then it's exactly like you'll remember!"

It was certainly not as _loud_ , the arcade being filled with at least ten times as many people as on his birthday.

"Hey, I know now is kind of an awkward time to mention it," Noctis takes a 50 Lucian note out of his pocket, Prompto's eyes widening as he nonchalantly places it in the quarter converter. Almost instantly, Noctis grabs a bag to place under the spout as the small coins fly out in all directions.

"You really didn't have to do that," Prompto, an admirably bright shade of light red, sheepishly whispers, hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, but I really want to, and the prince does what he wants," Noctis coolly explains, handing the bulging, heavy bag to the blonde.

_"Is that Prince Noctis?"_

_"I think so!"_

_"Come to think of it, I've never actually seen him in person,"_

_"Who the hell is that with him?"_

_"Who knows, maybe a royal cousin or something,"_

The two young men exchange glances at the gossip before standing doubled over in laughter.

"I gotta admit, it's pretty weird getting swarmed for a change," Noctis says as he lifts a toy gun towards the screen of a game.

"Well, you're not exactly very friendly in your appearances," Prompto replies, picking up his own gun.

"Yeah, and, sorry," Noctis apologizes genuinely.

"Don't apologize to me, Noct. You already have,"

The two play a few tiring rounds of a rail shooter, both of them losing to the computer despite Prompto's perfect accuracy.

"Must be rigged," Prompto sneers. "But uh, what were you gonna say?"

"Oh, yeah - about, uh, Umbra,"

Prompto visibly tenses at the dog's mention.

"It was really, really strange, Noct. I was just in my room, it was last Friday, and, my window was opened, when all of a sudden…Umbra, right? He was on my bed with a red book in his mouth, and I opened it, and…there was…this green writing…really pretty, rich cursive, almost like a god had written the note…"

Noctis swallows heavily. He had perfectly described the handwriting of Luna, which there was no way anyone else would have known, which meant Prompto told the exact truth.

"And what did it say?" Noctis asks quietly.

 _'I can't just tell him it said to be your friend or else the world will perish.'_ Prompto frowns.

"I'll tell you if you can beat me at a round of King's Knight!" Prompto instantly grins, rushing over to a giant King's Knight machine.

"Deal!" Noctis rushes too, both of them getting into position.

"…Hey, Noct," Prompto turns to the prince, who meets his gaze.

"What's up?"

"I will tell you this; I'm really glad you're my friend,"

"I'm glad you're mine, Prompto,"

"…but I'm even more glad you're my friend who's about to get his ass kicked!" he taunts, Noctis steeling his expression, the two young men moving the joystick and tapping buttons frantically. Suddenly the stares and whispers of curious onlookers went completely unnoticed, as did the frantic, repetitive calls from Ignis. If this is what friendship was, Noctis smiles as Prompto gloats over his victory, Noctis giving him a slight push before the blonde pushes him back, then it was worth the day of hooky, the phone calls, and whatever punishment Ignis had in store for him.


	5. A Job Done Too Well

Noctis discovered just how vast Insomnia truly was on the remainder of his day out with Prompto. After the arcade, the two perused around the Promenade, a twenty five storey shopping mall whose height was only dwarfed by the Lucian castle itself. Within its hundreds of shops, Noctis had discovered a whole range of products he would not have even assumed were necessary - wool cover slips for cooking pots (of which Noctis bought a couple at an extravagant price of 250 Lucians, hoping to offer them as well as a clove and frankincense scented " _bath bomb_ " to Ignis as tribute for his insubordination), _"Serenity Cat Pods",_ a one thousand Lucian, round, ceramic ball in which your cat was meant to hide _("Let's buy it dude, it's hilarious!" "Uh, Noct? For a thousand Lucian, I think you'll really have some hell to pay with Ignis if he sees that charge to your card…")._

All of it had truly been so invigorating and new that the two had pulled nearly every muscle in their body from never ending laughter. Their smiles had still not faded from their faces as Noctis walked Prompto back to his street, the two having stood in the doorway of his townhouse for an unanticipated twenty minutes. _"Next time we have some time, I'm taking you to Kenny's - it's a really popular chain all over Leide, and there's exactly one in downtown Insomnia,"_ Prompto promised. _"What kind of food do they have there?" "Only the greasiest fries and chicken tenders you've ever tasted this side of the wall, you'll be backed up for days," "Backed up?" "Let's just say your stomach won't like you very much if all you know is royal cuisine,"_

Over a mile now stands between Noctis and Prompto's house, a distance covered by the prince in a languid twenty five minutes; Noctis had felt the need to stop and soak in the aura of all that surrounded him. He peeked into uncovered manholes, listening to the rush of the gurgling water that flowed below, mirroring the entirety of Insomnia like an urban maze. He memorized the various street signs that speckle the city like metal freckles, frustrated that his father had only allowed him to drive in the abandoned wilderness beyond the wall.

 _"Perhaps that was for the best,"_ he'd realized, wincing as he'd counted the fourth near collision as passing cars slowed to catch a candid glimpse of their crown prince. Dirt collected organically on the soles of his uniform shoes, and his nose burned with the smell of motor oil no matter which corner he turned. His ears were clogged by the sounds of fleeting chatter and honking horns, percussive beats that accentuated the walk home so perfectly, he had not even noticed he stands before the gates of his own palace.

Stoic members of the Kingsglaive stand posted on either side of the gate, armed and completely unresponsive toward the dozens of civilians on the sidewalks who stride past in either direction. The front gates share the same motif as those of the family's private entrance: towering, thick, massive steel bars painted black, the golden, winged skull of the family crest soldered dead center.

"Usin' the front entrance, lad?" a confused Glaive questions, Noctis' face nearly splitting from his grin. "Just this once,"

"Word has it your boy's a bit worried," the Glaive replies with raised eyebrows, the gates parting to let Noctis in.

The excitement fades as anxiety sets in, Noctis striding across the empty courtyard and up the main marble steps. Two more Glaives open the main doors, revealing yet another splendid staircase.

"Great…" Noctis whispers, his approaching footsteps drowned out by the grandly echoing voice of Ignis, who awaits atop them together with Gladio.

"…look's like the search party's off, Iggy - look who just came rolling in," Gladio smirks, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow toward the prince as he stops on their landing.

"Hey,"

"Don't you _hey_ me -!"

"Calm it down, Iggy, he's in one piece," Gladio soothingly assures him, but Ignis' squared shoulders and balled fists still persist.

"By the grace of the _Gods_!"

"And my training!"Gladio quips in, feigning offense.

"Do you know I had to cancel my game with the lovely Miss Aurum because of your nonsense?!"

"Ignis, it's _two o'clock in the afternoon_ -" Noctis rolls his eyes, instantly unable to contain his frustration.

"Well, I suppose I should just be grateful your disobedience at least has a curfew," Ignis snaps.

"What can I say? You taught me well," Noctis retorts with the same scathing tone.

"Clearly I'm missing something, here," Gladio interjects, eyebrows raised. "I figured Noct just got stuck in a toilet downstairs or somethin', I didn't know he actually _left_ the grounds,"

"Ignis _helped_ me do it -!"

"Uhh, nope! Can we at least _rehearse_ the details of our story before you get _me_ in as much trouble _you're_ in?!"

"Why am I in trouble though?!"

"Because, you did not answer my texts or phone calls, or my instructions that you return home to the castle immediately!"

 _"Afraid I'm gonna drown in my hot chocolate_?" Noctis scoffs.

"You know I gave Noct swimming lessons, Iggy," Gladio warns, Noctis turning his head to hide his smirk - Gladio had always enjoyed ruffling Ignis' easily bent feathers.

"Afraid that some crazed political radical will see you walking around unguarded and have an attempt on your life!"

"As if I wouldn't be able to kick Prompto's ass?" Noctis smirks, hands on his hips.

"That's my boy!" Gladio grins.

"Don't you _encourage_ him, Gladio -!"

"Dude, you were texting me nonstop while you were supposed to be in the spa!" Noctis chuckles, finding the whole spat utterly hysterical. "You were supposed to be relaxing!"

"And come to think of it, didn't Noctis leave with you this morning, Iggy? How the hell'd he have a playdate if you didn't give it the go ahead in the first place?"

"Don't you all drag me down to your level of delinquency!" Ignis snaps, flushed with creeping embarrassment.

"So, let me get this straight. You let Noctis skip -"

"Not so _loud, Gladio_ -" Ignis flinches.

"Noctis skips with some kid from school -" Gladio obligingly whispers.

"His parents know he took the day off, by the way," Noctis interrupts coolly.

"As opposed to _yours_ -" Ignis snaps, but they both stop at Gladio's scowl.

"Don't interrupt now, " Gladio warns before continuing. "Noctis skips school to hang out with some _bro_ of his, Iggy gets the wrong kind of hot and bothered during his spa date before his big day with Cindy -"

"I despise you all," Ignis mumbles.

" -Spams _your_ cellphone, which you ignore for hours on end, making Iggy so worried that I had to stop him from summoning the _Kingsglaive_ , when you magically show up here on the steps,"

"That about sums it up!" Noctis beams.

"You left out the small detail of how I'll see to it you'll never see the light of day until you're _thirty_!"

"I have some good news for the both of you - well, maybe not good news, but some closure, at least,"

"What?!" Noctis and Ignis ask the tallest of the three in unison before glaring at one another.

"Your father is going to be at lunch this afternoon -"

"Oh?" Noctis asks smally, the idea of it no longer as entirely pleasant as it was earlier that morning, before he had incurred the fearsome breadth of Ignis' snitching powers.

"You best believe I will be telling the King every detail -"

" - _Including_ the one about how you dropped him off at a friend's to skip school in the first place," Gladio slyly adds.

"Tch," Ignis waves his hand, Noctis sticking out his tongue. "At least I'm closer to thirty, so I'll get to leave the castle before _you_ do," Ignis sneers.

"If it's such a big deal, just _chaperone_ me next time," Noctis snaps before brushing past the two of them. "I'm gonna go get ready for lunch," he stalks down the hall towards his private wing, Gladio turning his head from the young man back toward his bespectacled friend and colleague.

"You two are ridiculous," Gladio immediately chuckles.

"I'm telling you, Gladio, I wouldn't be half the ninny nanny I was if he'd use his head every once in a while!"

"I'm not sayin' the kid isn't a hot mess, but there are some hills that are worth dying on more than others,"

"Gladio, I must admit I truly was terrified,"

"I know, Iggy, but that's why I'm here, I teach him to stand on his own two feet. I give him a hard time, but he's tougher than he seems, kid can kick some ass,"

"I know. It was just - the skipping school and being out unguarded - together, it was just such a terrifying thought, especially on my watch,"

"You're just overthinking it,"

"I suppose…" Ignis concedes with an exhale.

"Which is _rich_ , coming from the same Ignis that used to sneak girls into the royal library from school at night and -"

"You don't have to bring up my past offenses!" Ignis laughs, cutting Gladio short, the two setting off slowly for the staff wing.

"This coming from Ignis, the royal _partyer_ who used his culinary access club card to sneak old Lucian wines for the senior girls-"

"Noct wouldn't believe you if even _you_ told him,"

"Well, put yourself in his shoes. How much did you resent having to spend your whole teenage years essentially rearing an annoying little shit?"

"There were some days I wanted nothing more than to throw myself off the roof and onto the courtyard," Ignis snorts.

"Then you didn't hate it _half_ as much as I did," Gladio chuckles back.

"It was never _Noct's_ fault…there was - there _is_ \- just a lot of pressure that goes hand in hand with such duties as ours…"

"Yeah, but don't forget that now it's  _his_ turn to go through what we went through. Unable to do anything the rest of your classmates are doing, because of Gods and _Crystals_. And don't forget that his duties and obligations are even greater than ours. It's hard watching King Regis barely push to his fiftieth birthday,"

"It truly is, Gladio…"

"And on top of all this shit, Noct gets to deal with watching his father fall apart before him,"

"Alright, alright -" Ignis relents. "I'll forgive him this _once_ , and you best let him know that he really has you to thank,"

"Heh, if the little butt head even lets me in his room - you know how he gets when he mopes,"

 _"Believe me I do_ ," Ignis whispers tensely. "I'm going to go help set the table for kunch, hopefully you'll join us tonight before rushing off,"

"Yeah, haven't stayed for lunch in a while,"

"And I'll have you know that chaperoning Noctis while out on the town with his friends would technically be _your_ job,"

"It was bad enough when it was my own angst, but all that sixteen year-old cringe is gonna be rough to stomach from the outside lookin' in," Gladio exchanges a grin with raised eyebrows with Ignis before setting off further down the hall.

* * *

Noctis sits forcefully in his favorite chair closest to the kitchen doors. Ignis immediately opens his mouth, Gladio flicking the bespectacled man's cheek with his thumb and index finger, causing Ignis to jump and hold his cheek in annoyed shock whilst Noctis snorts.

Ignis continues setting plates, Gladio sitting in a chair next to Noctis in an attempt to break the silence.

"'Sup,"

"Hey," he replies, texting quickly on his phone.

_Iggy hasn't told me what my punishment is yet. Prolly waitin' to bitch me out in front of dad._

"Who're you textin'?" Gladio asks with genuine interest.

"This kid from class named Prompto,"

"That the same kid who got Iggy's panties in a bunch?"

"Heh, yeah," Noctis beams, Ignis throwing them both a pouty scowl, setting the table silently further. The two whisper, much to Ignis' suspicion, enjoying their conversation a little too heartily as they snicker into their fists.

"He sent _that_ to Iggy?!"

"That's enough!" Ignis interjects. "I'm going to get the pitcher," he storms through the door.

"…Don't let Iggy bug you too much,"

"It's just _so annoying_ \- it's either, _I'm not socializing enough,_ or _I'm going outside_ -"

"He nags because he loves and cares about you,"

"Doesn't mean he's not annoying,"

"Yeah, but it's better to be annoyed than neglected,"

"I know, Gladio…" Noctis sighs, lighting up instantly as his phone buzzes, immediately texting back.

_Let me know when you're done with lunch and we can work on the sociology homework you missed on Friday._

_Alright, awesome. Thanks, Prompto!_

_'This Prompto kid has Noct doin' his homework early, I'm sure that's a plus in Iggy's book,'_ Gladio muses.

"You heard from Luna lately?"

"Not since last week…" Noctis mutters quietly, having forgotten about Prompto and his story that sounded suspiciously like his unbeknownst correspondence with the Oracle.

"You hopin' to see her soon?"

"…Yeah, actually, hopefully over Winter Break! I think dad even said I can drive myself to Tenebrae,"

"Maybe not after Iggy's done evisceratin' ya,"

"Ughhhh…"

_Bzzt bzzt._

_So Noct….you got any Winter Break plans?_

"Freaky," Noctis whispers, biting his lip as he thinks of what to type back.

_Dunno yet. Probably some kind of royal something or other down the line. Why, you?_

"Phones away until after supper, please!" Ignis chimes, returning from the kitchens with a crystal pitcher filled with pristine, crisp water. Noctis tosses it moodily onto the table, slouching into his chair. He instantly straightens as the set of pewter doors that lead to his father's wing parts loudly, the greying King striding in with little to his limp and much more remarkable strength than as of late.

"Dad!" Noctis beams, unable to let his joy at the sight of his father be dampened by the thought of the inevitable lecture he was to receive somewhere into the meal (he had not yet informed Regis of his fight the previous week).

"Noctis, my dear boy," Regis throws his arms open, Noctis shamelessly giving his father a tight embrace. He settles into his leather throne at the head of the table, unfastening a set of heavy winter cloaks, which a maid promptly folds up and removes from the King's hands. "Gladio," he nods.

"Your Highness,"

"Where's Ignis?"

"Off in the kitchens, he's _really_ busy," Noctis starts.

"Hmm," Regis shrugs, placing his hands on his stomach. "I've not been this starving in quite a while,"

"Yeah, I can't think of the last time I've actually seen you eat," Noctis attempts to joke lightly.

"Even as the King of Lucis I cannot say I'm the first to wake within my own castle walls, you're up at five before nearly everyone!"

"Yeah, sometimes I even get to sleep in until _5:15_ ,"

"And I bet Ignis _loathes_ it - ahh, thank you," Regis adds to a maid after taking a sip from the glass of water she brings him.

"There are some days where I catch him yawning while I'm getting ready," Noctis admits deviously.

"Careful Noct, these walls aren't known for keeping secrets," Gladio jokes ominously, the two sharing a smirk.

"I must congratulate you on a semester well done, son. I saw you made the honor roll - I'm sorry I've been so absent as of late,"

"Dad…"

"But the good news is I have finally managed to convince Galahd to accept another pact, and I must say the prime minister was in great spirits. Hopefully this'll allow me much needed time here, at home,"

"…yeah!" Noctis grins. "It'll be awesome!"

"You did not read the terms of that very pact I had Ignis lay out for you, did you?" Regis asks, raising his glass to his mouth with an eyebrow cocked.

"I'm about four pages in," Noctis fibs, taking a sip of water himself.

"There were only _three_ ," Regis chuckles as Noctis turns bright red, Gladio elbowing him in the ribs.

"Maybe he made a few extra copies," Noctis tries to recover, Gladio shaking his head. "Liar Noct strikes out again,"

"So I suppose that means you made the honor roll with Ignis on your back to remind you of your due dates," Regis accuses lightly. "No matter, I know school has been keeping you busy," Regis nods seriously. 

"Drautos got me this new cellphone, Noct," Regis changes the subject lightheartedly as maids bring out the first course of soup. He holds up a sleek black smartphone, twisting it inquisitively in his hands. "It's different, this thing - nothing at all like my old one," He could see the hurt on his son's face over the mention of politics. He knows he should be mad at his nearly adult son for shirking the duties of his kingdom, yet Regis cannot help but mourn Noctis' squandered youth too deeply to scold him; particularly when the two had seen less and less of one another since the start of his High School career. Being a teenager was hard enough with high school being the only expectation clinging to ones' back to weigh them down, let alone the curse of an entire bloodline. Regis, having suffered through Noctis' very same experience with a fraction of the understanding from his own father, cannot find it in his heart to chastise him.

"Drautos got you to part with that ancient old flip phone?!" Noctis chuckles, blowing on his spoon before taking a bite.

"Your old man doesn't get as good as he is without a bit of the old stubborn will in him. Besides, I've still got it," Regis places a dinged up and scratched flip phone on the table.

"Careful you don't dent the table, Your Majesty," Gladio laughs as well.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to freshen up a bit before sitting to eat - Your Highness," Ignis bows to Regis.

"Ignis, wonderful to see you as always," Regis' eyes glitter as they follow Ignis into his seat. It had truly felt as if he had three sons gathered around his table. "And you," Ignis nods.

More maids file out of the kitchen, one pulling back on a golden rope. Thick, velvet, dark red curtains to tumble from nearly twenty feet to cover the large glass windows behind Regis. The sun had completely set.

Another maid illuminates the chandeliers, bathing the entire grand dining hall with glowing yellow light.

Noctis tenses up at Ignis' presence, though the brunette merely starts in on his own soup, much to Noctis' pleasant surprise.

"We were mourning the loss of my old phone," Regis brings Ignis up to speed with a smile.

"Well, I must admit, it will be much easier to hear your calls on a phone whose receiver is not going bad, Your Majesty," Ignis sharing silent laughter with Gladio via their gaze with one another. "Besides, you'll be much better able to receive photos from myself, and actually be able to _see_ them,"

"How long have you had that thing?" Noctis asks quietly.

"Oh, almost as long as you've been _alive_ ," Regis claps his hands joyfully as the main course is brought out: braised pork, still steaming, garnished with baked apples turned nearly brown with cinnamon, a beautiful bowl of tossed greens, and a freshly baked loaf of rye bread with fresh butter.

Noctis immediately stands up to carve himself the flank, dumping a heap of cinnamon apples upon the slab of meat.

"Be sure to trim your fat," Ignis whispers through his teeth, closing his eyes from exhaustion as the fat is the first thing the blacked haired young man consumes. "Or at the very least save me some next time…" he sneers further.

"I've obviously got you in my phone, Noctis, and every time you call, a baby picture of you pops up on my contact screen. I dunno how Drautos managed to set that up but I must admit it is a bit hysterical,"

 _"Daadd_ ," Noctis smiles sheepishly, not having noticed Ignis having dropped a tongful of salad on his plate.

"Your Highness? There is someone on the phone from Noctis' school, they insist it's urgent," a butler appears through the threshold leading toward the staff wing from behind Noctis, holding one of the many cream colored porcelain house phones.

"Please tell them we are in the middle of lunch, Aurelius," Regis responds kindly, but firmly.

"I have, Your Highness, but they insist it is important and will take only a moment's time,"

"Alright then, I understand. Please hand me the phone, and thank you," Regis extends a hand, gently taking the phone as the butler disappears once more. "Good afternoon, I am hoping the interruption of my lunch with my son and friends is well worth the extra attention," Regis states with ultimate calmness.

"Yes…right… _no, I had not_ ," Regis' eyes dart sternly to his son, who slowly sinks into his chair. "I had not authorized this, nor was I aware…right, right, absolutely…thank you for clearing this up. I will be sure to contact you further at some point after lunch, and I will absolutely be having a very frank discussion with my son. Thank you for refusing to let him off easy despite his status…a wonderful night to you, as well," Regis hangs the receiver up against its base, immediately looking at his son once more.

"When exactly were you planning on telling me that the reason you had Ignis pick you up early from school was because you got into a _fight_ with another student?"

 _"You didn't tell him?!_ " both Noctis and Ignis yell in unison, staring at one another in shock. Gladio lifts his eyebrows and hands in innocence before pointing in the general direction of the other two. Noctis had to admit, he was surprised at Ignis' self-restraint at not snitching.

"Noctis -"

"I didn't mean to, dad -!"

"And do you think I can look at the people of Galahd and tell them I did not _mean_ for the Empire to bomb their city -?!"

"He's been bullying me since day one! Every single day, he says something smart, he'll shout at me from the across the room and make everyone else laugh, and -"

"And could you imagine if I engaged the Empire over words I did not like?"

"He - he said some real rude stuff about you, Dad -"

"And it is just as ridiculous of a reason to strike first and get in trouble as any other. My feelings are more than resilient enough that it should be beyond requiring my son to fist fight his classmates in order to defend them. Even beyond the trouble at school, what should parents and teachers and peers think if they knew about this behavior, you're the _prince_!"

"I got _angry_!"

"Anger is no excuse for rash decisions to act out in violence!" Regis begins to raise his voice at Noctis' aggression, who grips his fork so hard, his hand turns red. "You must learn to control your emotions if you are to become king! Or are you planning on abdicating your throne, the way you apparently decided to abdicate from _school_ today as well-! What in all of Eos has gotten into you?! Have I not raised you better than that?! Has Ignis not guided you better than that?! Has Gladio not been a better role model than that?!"

 _"I only did it just this once_!"

"Your excuses are growing weaker by the second, Noctis! And _you_ , Ignis! You would _allow_ him to skip school?!"

"Your M-Majesty, I-I-"

 _"He had nothing to do with it!_ " Noctis roars through hissed teeth, the entire table silent over his outburst. "Ignis had _nothing_ to do with it!" he repeats. "He dropped me off at school, and when he left, I hopped the fence,"

"Noctis, I cannot believe what I am hearing," Regis shakes his head, Ignis staring in silent disbelief at the young man himself.

 _"That's why he was panicking earlier - he went to pick me up, and I never showed up, 'cause I walked home, on my own! He had no idea, okay?!_ "

"Why would you do such a thing?" Regis asks quietly.

"Because, I -" Noctis stops short, fuming too furiously to continue his thoughts.

"You had best learn how to express yourself right now, because your people will not accept a King who starts war without an explana-"

 _"But this isn't about fucking war, dad!_ " Noctis slams his fists on the table, staring straight at his father, shaking.

"Hey, now," Gladio warns, placing his hand on Noctis' shoulder. The young man brushes it off, standing up violently from his chair and storming off noisily and causing all three men to jump as he slams the heavy pewter doors leading to his wing in his wake.

"…Everything alright?" Aurelius sticks his greying head through the threshold after a few minutes of silence, his quiet question eliciting a sigh from Noctis' weary father.

"…Yes, yes it is. May you summon the young ladies to clean the table?" He asks gently, his eyes still closed. Aurelius nods, taking the excuse to set off through the kitchens hurriedly.

"Where did I go wrong, boys?" Regis shakes his head, Gladio swallowing heavily before answering.

"I wouldn't say you've gone wrong, Your Highness,"

"The Prince just has a lot on his mind and on his plate…" Ignis interjects as well.

"Then perhaps I've neglected him too long to see it,"

"…Listen, Your Majesty…" Ignis begins, his turn to gulp. "I suspect I can give you some insight into what is going on," he begins determinedly. "I imagine Noctis told you a different series of events to spare me from punishment, but I did indeed know that he skipped school today,"

"Ignis, in all of your years of -"

"With all due respect, please hear him out, Your Majesty," it is clear by his ginger, reserved actions, that Gladio does not entirely trust himself to be so direct with the king.

"…Alright, Gladio. Continue please, Ignis," the King, however, seems keen to take the Shield's suggestion.

"Noctis has recently developed a friendship with a classmate -"

"Is this all over a girl from school?" Regis immediately interrupts to predict, eyes narrowed.

"Well, no, but Noctis is telling the truth when he says he's suffered quite a lot of unpopularity amongst his classmates,"

"I simply cannot see why! He's smart, handsome, funny, kind, a _prince...!"_ Regis shakes his head in befuddlement, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, and imagine being sixteen year old Joe Schmo and having to sit next to a  _smart, handsome, funny, kind, prince_  in science - you're gonna lash out in jealousy!" Gladio explains, Regis nodding and resting his chin on his fingertips.

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right…continue…"

"This behavior has only caused Noctis to retract into himself and be rather unfriendly, which only makes things _worse_ -"

"Why didn't you tell me this before?!"

"A man negotiating peace within his Kingdom hardly needs teenage drama on his plate, Your Majesty," Ignis calmly explains, but Regis shakes his head.

"But it is my _son's_ drama, and if I can make time for millions of Lucians, I should be able to make enough for my boy…but please, go on, do not let me interrupt further…"

"A very nice young man stepped between himself and the young man Noctis was fighting, and I suppose Noctis and this nice young man have managed to hit off quite the friendship,"

"Apparently during _school hours_ …" Regis scoffs, allowing himself a few seconds of contemplation before continuing. "...and how is it again you know this?"

"Well, Noctis begged me on the way to driving him to school to drop him off at this young man's house. Apparently the other boy, Prompto, he's called, had permission from his parents to take today off because he went to school yesterday, in spite of the weather. Prompto and him were excited to get to know each other further, and so I…I conspired to drop Noctis off at his house - I do not know what came over me - and let me tell you I did not make this decision lightly!"

"It's true, Iggy was worried someone would hurt Noctis while he was out in the city, and he was upset with himself for letting him skip," Gladio back him up. "But to be fair, when he comes home, he has chores, training, homework, and royal coaching, so it's not as if he has the time to hang out with his new friend _after_ school,"

"On top of that, I texted and called him multiple times to come home, Noctis ignored them and came waltzing in at two o'clock - but I accept responsibility for my actions, despite Noctis kindly trying to cover for me and shift my blame solely onto him…"

"All of this was for the ability to hang out with a new friend? Why didn't he just say so?"

"Because he's seventeen and pretty bad with his feelings anyway," Gladio answers matter of factly.

"But I happen to agree with your earlier points, Your Highness - it gives him no excuse to shirk his responsibilities. All of us, from the cleaners, to the cooks, to the Kingsglaive, to Gladio, you, and myself, we _all_ have to take responsibility, and will have to continue to do so for as long as we live,"

"Sometimes I think Caelum royal tradition has groomed you to do your job too well, Ignis," Regis whispers, smiling smally.

"He's got the stress of everything, but on top of that, he has to worry about what becoming a Lucian King means, and on top of _that_ , losing _you_ ," Ignis explains. "Gladio made me realize today that he does not shirk off the briefings because he does not _care_ \- I mean, he's very clear that they're _boring_ , but he works hard, Your Highness, I think he's afraid of losing you,"

"I see…" Regis rubs his forehead, eyes closed.

"He was excited this morning about the idea of sitting in on one of your next briefings, so I know for a fact he _does_ care, albeit in his own strange way..."

"Perhaps I shall bring him along at some point over Winter Break," Regis pulls out a pocket calendar and a calligraphy pen, scrawling a note before placing it away again. "Can you tell me a bit more about this Prompto?"

"Sure, I met him the other day, Noctis asked me to give him a ride home. I vetted him and warned Noctis to be wary that he means well. He's a blonde kid with freckles - he seems quite goofy and outgoing, but Noctis seems to enjoy his company, considering he never puts his phone down anymore. I believe he is also the head of Student Council. He seems close to his parents, but he is adopted, based on what Noctis was telling me,"

"Right. I would like you both to set aside some time outside of your own training with him to allow him some time with this Prompto after school,"

"Yes, Your Majesty - wait, what?" Ignis asks, aghast. "I'd like to try a new approach with my son. I was in his position once, myself, and I know what I would have preferred from my father versus what I got," Regis tapers off gruffly, stretching and standing up straight. Gladio and Ignis smile as he walks brusquely without his cane. "Besides, I appreciate the way he owned up to his behavior. He even lied to cover for you,"

"The only time I've ever seen him pull it off, " Gladio laughs.

"I have plenty of strength left, if not very much time, and I would like to say that before my own runs out that I did right by my boy as my boy, and not as my heir and future King,"

"You mean he is not to be punished?!"

"Oh, he'll be punished, alright - I'm going to go have a nice little chat with him right now, if you'd excuse me."

* * *

"I couldn't imagine having a _King_ mad at me!" Prompto exclaims, facing backwards in his chair. He rests his chin on its back as he chats with Noctis, who scribbles his Calculus homework finished. The sun had barely risen, their classmates using the brimming light as a guide to rush around their homeroom classroom and gather their belongings for the day. "They can _behead_ you, they can throw you in _jail_ \- forever! They can banish you from the land… wait, I was the one who convinced you to skip, so maybe the King _is_ mad at me!"

"I already _told_ you, he's not mad at _you_ ," Noctis laughs, stuffing a whole homemade teacake from Ignis into his mouth and looking down at his homework once more. "'Sides, effen if 'e was, I'm de Pwinz - de Pwinz always gets what 'e wants," Noctis smirks through a full mouth. "Alright, if you say so, but if he comes after me, I'm gonna need your princely powers!" Prompto laughs, stealing a teacake.

"So what _did_ happen?"

"Well, he back handed me first," Noctis points to a blemish on his cheek. Regis had only twice placed his hands on Noctis in the past; the King had a tendency to rely on old fashioned discipline practices, drawing inspiration from the line of fathers before him. Such incidents were rare and even more rarely needed. However, Regis could not consciously allow his son's disrespectful mouth and increasingly delinquent behavior to precede the leeway he prince had assumed for himself. Prompto hisses at the red mark, narrowing his eyes.

" _Jeeze, dude!_ See?! That's what I mean when I say I don't want your old man mad at me!"

"I'd kinda earned it, to be honest…but either way, we talked. For hours,"

"'Bout what?"

"Everything," Noctis sighs, staring forward at nothing and growing silent. "Uhhh, hello?" Prompto ducks his head in front of his friend, waving a hand in his face.

"Oh, oh—yeah…nothin', we just…I told him everything, how I've been feeling and stuff, what I've been going through, and he just…he listened to me, and he hugged me…told me he loved me. He promised to make more time for me, outside of dumb political shit, told me he was proud of me and wouldn't want any other person in Eos as a son - s-sorry, got kinda sappy just now…"

"No, dude," Prompto assures him quietly. "I didn't hear those words from my dad until three years ago when I got adopted, and he's not even my _real_ dad,"

"Life's crazy, huh?" Noctis laughs, the two boys checking their answers side by side.

"But, uh, I'm still kinda confused why Iggy didn't run and snitch to my dad…"

"Like I said! Guy seems a lot cooler than you give him credit for,"

"Yeah, he's pretty alright," Noctis admits warmly, smiling beside himself. "I'm surprised more people haven't bothered us, or made jokes about how I'm _actually_ talking to someone,"

"Eh, it's before our first class on our first _real_ day back - give it 'til lunch," Prompto laughs, giving his friend a slight push.

"Speaking of, what do we wanna do after school? My dad gave me a whole hour every day where we can hang out,"

"Well, If Ignis gives us a ride, then we could do something, but if he doesn't, then just our walk home will take up the greater part of an hour,"

"Hmm…I suppose you could always come back to my place?" Noctis suggests in what he attempts in a nonchalant way, flushing at the blonde's immediate excitement at the suggestion. "Holy shit! You mean, go to the royal palace? Meet the _King_?! Meet the _Kingsglaive_?! I – I couldn't! I don't have the clothes, the _anything_!"

"Yeah, and that's _kinda_ why I like you,"

"What do you mean?" Prompto asks suddenly.

"Well, you're not stuffy royal cousins, or servile staff who can't talk to me without saying 'Highness', and you're not duty-bound to take a bullet for me, so I can just…be myself, for once,"

"You make it all sound so easy - Hey, Prompto, wanna come chill at my _giant fucking castle_ with the King and sit on chairs more expensive than your _parents' house_ after school?"

"Well I mean, if you don't _want_ to…" Noctis grins.

"No no no! I do! I really, _really_ do!"

"You can even stay for dinner," 

"Are you sure I'm allowed?" Prompto's blue eyes are wide and curious, and Noctis cannot help but drown himself in their passionate depths for a moments time before continuing.

"The Prince always gets what he wants,"

"Maybe when _The Prince_ isn't in royal trouble," Prompto smirks, Noctis turning red and fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"I guess you're right, lemmie run it by Iggy real quick,"

_Hey, Ig. I told Prompto to come over after school today and stay for dinner. Kinda wanna make sure I make my curfew first day._

"Tell him he doesn't need to give me a ride home, I'll just take the bus!" Prompto adds nervously, looking down at the message Noctis drafts.

"Don't be weird, I'll drive you home if it's a big deal," Noctis laughs before texting further.

_Bzzt bzzt._

Ignis clearly beats him.

_Alright. There's plenty of room. Tell him to bring his homework. You two are going to be productive._

"Whoohoo! _Easy game!_ "

"Maybe you should call your parents and let them know,"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll do that later!" Prompto nods so quickly, his blonde hair is a blur.

Noctis can't help himself but smile at Prompto's excitement. The school bell on top of the main campus building softly rings the Westminster chime, the deafening sound of tables and chairs scratching across the tiled linoleum floors bringing their conversation to a brief pause.

"Say, Noct," Prompto asks, swinging his briefcase in wild circles as students flood into the hall bathed in the pink and orange of the sunrise.

"Yo,"

"Is it okay if I bring my camera?"

"Just as long as you don't post it on Instagram,"

"Nah, I won't, I like physical prints anyway, I have a whole album, and I hang stuff up in my room! Hey, that reminds me! That's how you can get popular! Start an Insta and fill it up with a bunch of shirtless pics! Then I bet every girl in school will like you!"

"My dad would kick my ass," Noctis warns, rubbing his cheek.

"I'd hate to see your _ass_! Nevermind an Insta, then! Right, well, do we wanna sit next to each other in History? I already saw Philo and Aelia whispering about us in home room,"

"I'm fine sitting with you, let them say what they want,"

"Alright then, cool. And if Maximus tries to start shit -"

"I'll ignore him, unless he _really_ wants his nose re-broken,"

"Oooo, _sasssay_ Noct!" Prompto punches the air, nearly tripping as Noctis gives him a slight push into the classroom. His face burns hot as he feels his classmates clearly whispering at his changed demeanor. Prompto seems uninterested in their whispers. Noctis thankfully notes that none of their whispers seem to come from negative reactions, merely curiosity and surprise to see the young man who had been dragged out with bloody knuckles on Friday return nearly arm in arm with the same blonde on Tuesday.

He nearly bumps into Prompto, realizing nearly too late that the young man had pulled out a large black camera with a large lens, snapping a picture.

"Check this out," Prompto smirks, Noctis bending slightly to look at his camera's display; three black haired girls caught in obvious gossip surrounding the two of them look directly into camera in unflattering disgruntlement at having been caught in the act.

"I'll delete it if you guys shut your mouths and stop stirring shit," Prompto offers cheerfully, the cluster of girls rolling their eyes with a venomous "Fine, whatever," eyeing them nastily as they find their own seats. "We'll be fine," Prompto laughs, deleting the picture with a soft beep, turning his display around to show the girls as the history teacher walks in.

"Yeah, I know," the two share a soft smile as class begins.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to reiterate that I write this as I go. I start a chapter and it ends wherever. While I have specific scenes I know I definitely want to write a few chapters down the line, how I get there is a mystery for us all.
> 
> The chaperoning line was inspired by a review left on this story that left me laughing so hard I couldn't help but include it. It's really hard not to rush these two into their feelings. If you're screaming 'COME ON, JUST GET TO IT ALREADY!' Know I am too, but I like to take my time in fanfiction ;).
> 
> Also if they can have Audi and American Express in Eos, they can sure as hell have Instagram. Fight me if you disagree B).
> 
> In the vein of Square Enix, Please Be Excited.


	6. Nightmares

"Dude, I dunno why you think this stuff is nasty, it's easily the best part of your lunches – even eight years ago, it was…" Prompto shakes his head in disbelief, cupping a mason jar filled with a pungent, thick green slurry of blended vegetables. The two had combined lunches, an act in the vein of their middle school tradition, suggested by Noctis in the hopes of pleasantly surprising the blonde.

"If _you_ want to drink wheatgrass smoothies, Prompto, then they're yours for the rest of the year," Noctis grimaces, twisting the top off a glass bottle of cloudy orange soda instead. "You got any more of those peanut butter covered celery sticks?" Prompto asks hopefully, instantly dropping his shoulders as Noctis takes the last bite of the final stalk.

"I'll tell Iggy to pack six tomorrow instead of three,"

"I'm surprised you like them - celery is a veggie, you know…"

" _Anything's_ good with peanut butter slathered all over it…"

"I never used to like veggies either, but…you'd be surprised how your palette changes after an intense workout regimen! Fizzy drinks just do _not_ do the trick anymore," Prompto laughs at Noctis' disgusted expression, spitting a few drops of the smoothie onto his front mid-gulp.

"Good thing I'm not planning on working out anytime soon," Noctis sneers. Apart from his required training with Gladiolus, Noctis had preferred to remain as stationary as possible; his vast video game console collection and fifteen-foot flat was screen housed nearly two whole rooms in his private wing.

"Well, I am - track season's starting in a few weeks, and if I don't really give it my all, there's no way I'll make the team,"

" _Who does that_?" Noctis asks, completely bewildered.

"Who does what?"

"Who fucking _runs_ for fun?! Who fucking _practices_ for _running for fun_?!"

"Uh, people who _don't_ have fascinating hobbies like _become the King of a whole entire nation and its people_ , I guess? I can see how that could be enough exercise for like, a whole lifetime,"

"I know you're kidding, but seriously, you've got track, photography, student council…you really do do a lot," Noctis sighs, rummaging in his paper bag for a small satchel of lightly salted (it would be a thousand generations into the Lucian line before Ignis ever packed Noctis pure, unadulterated junk food) potato chips.

"What's up?! Worried I'll be too busy for you after January?" Prompto teases, narrowing his eyes and leaning in closer toward the prince, who shoves a handful of chips into Prompto's own hands.

"Well, _yeah_ , you're kind of my only friend, after all…" Noctis answers truthfully, bringing the bag to his lips and tilting his head back to funnel the crumbs into his mouth. Prompto cannot help but sit in slight shock, scratching behind his neck. _'I was kidding…'_ the blonde muses, silently offering Noctis a fruit snack from his own lunch bag, the picky eater plucking an orange Behemoth shaped morsel.

"Well, apart from track, you're welcome to join me, you know,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really love to have your help for planning Spring Festival this year,"

"It'd be really neat, Prompt, but I can't - I'm either too busy, on punishment, or not in the club,"

"I'm _president_ of student council and photography club, I can invite who I want!" Prompto lights up with a sudden realization. " _And_ maybe everyone'll ease up if they see you help me out with the Spring Festival this year!"

"Yeah right, more like avoid the Festival like the plague…" Noctis waves his hand, Prompto falling backwards onto the dusty, hardwood floor of the abandoned classroom Noctis managed to secure for lunch time.

"You gotta get your head out of the negative! We can't keep hiding like this, Noct, and there's no reason to! I'm not afraid to be your friend out there, and neither should you!"

"I just didn't feel like having to re-break Maximus' nose, that's all," Noctis explains coolly, crumbling his paper bag and flicking it into the recycling bin like a basketball.

"Pssht - look who the _real_ sports star is!" Prompto's smile quickly fades as he glances over at his silent friend, who sits with his arms crossed atop his kneecaps, lost in thought. Prompto had assumed his friend would want to spend their first day back at school in a somewhat secluded spot, away from ridicule, but he could not help but find their retreat counterproductive in trying to repair his relations to their classmates.

"You know, Noct, if you _treat_ yourself like discarded desks and forgotten, dusty books…" Prompto begins, gesturing to the cluttering towers of long forgotten school supplies that surround them.

"I know, I know…you're right, you don't even have to start," Noctis snaps, waving Prompto away aggravatedly. The blonde bites his lip before using the palm of his hand to hoist himself off the dusty ground. The honeymoon of the last few, problem-free days the two had shared almost entirely together had left him almost amnesic toward Noctis' occasional brooding fits.

He picks up his leather school satchel by the handle, maneuvering past a particularly dangerously unstable tower of boxes and toward the closed door.

"…I just don't want you to stop being my friend once others start giving you crap for hanging out with me," Noctis suddenly admits, still sitting upon the floor.

"Dude, do you think even a thousand Maximuses can scare me after that surprise Umbra visit?" he laughs, sighing inwardly from relief as Noctis too smiles, standing up as well. "I'll take him on myself if it means not losing you. Plus, come on – I was bullied _way_ before it was cool – I know what it's like, and who cares?! I'm friends with the _prince_! A really cool prince, and apparently photogenic, too,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Noctis asks as the two step out into the hallway. Prompto beckons for the young man to move closer, Noctis standing inches away from Prompto as he peers over his shoulder. "That's a picture of _me_?" Noctis asks incredulously; the blonde had managed to snag an incredibly introspective picture of the handsome prince lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling. A band of sunlight strikes diagonally across Noctis' frame like an astronomical sash, small flecks of dust highlighting the forgotten _mise-en-scene_ of the classroom backdrop.

"What can I say?! I got _skillz_ ,"

"You are such a _nerd_ ," Noctis chuckles, shaking his head with a soft smile as the two slowly walk back towards their home room. Prompto's point, Noctis begins to realize, was poignantly valid; running away had clearly solved nothing, and continuing to do so would change nothing as well.

"If I were Maximus, I wouldn't have shit to say to the prince that decked me in the nose _once_ and had me on the ground before shit could even _start_. I know it was maybe hard to hear in the moment, but a lot of them _were_ cheering for you, you know,"

"Yeah, but… I don't wanna have friends for beating a dude up,"

"You're over thinking it. You're actually a really cool person, Noct. You just don't show it in class, so how should they know it? Be who you are around me, I'm sure everyone'll come around," Prompto playfully slaps his arm. "Come on,"

He opens the classroom door, the two of them walking in together. They head instantly for their desks against the window, both silently surprised and relieved Maximus is not in the room.

"So what's the deal? You two friends now, or something?!" Aelia comes rushing over almost instantly, loudly dragging a chair behind her and plopping in it excitedly.

"Yeah, why?" Noctis asks, his forehead creased with embarrassment as he shares a look with Philo, who too, strolls towards the three of them, albeit much more calmly than his best friend.

"No real _reason_ , just curious!"

" _Aelia, curious?!_ " Noctis repeats sarcastically, eyes raised and throwing his hands up in mock surprise, Philo covering his mouth in a fit of laughter. "He's got you there, Ally,"

"I could see how you two could make a pretty good power hour, but don't think you're dethroning me and Philo as best friendship duo in Senior year," she grins mischievously, Prompto shrugging quietly. "That's our official yearbook title, I'll have you know, Noctis, Prompto can tell you all about that - and I have no plans of relinquishing our title,"

"I dunno, I am president of the yearbook staff, so…" Prompto smirks.

"I'll call corruption and have the whole staff investigated if our four-year reigning title is taken from us!" she starts excitedly, nearly knocking over the chair as she passionately rises from it. Noctis chuckles nervously as he finds himself unable to tell if she means the threat or not.

"Come on, Noctis, you're already the Prince of Lucis, let the rest of us peons have a title for once!" Philo jokes, Aelia easily distracted, waving to a group of girlfriends from another homeroom who wander in and rushing away.

"Sorry, Noctis – you know, about the dog thing…" he starts shamefully, hands in his pocket as he addresses the floor. "I know I was pretty loud, but…I told her to calm down a bit, and I told her not to tell anyone else, and if we'd known Maximus would have been such an asshole…"

"Did you expect anything _else_ from Maximus?" Prompto asks quite scathingly, folding his arms before eyeing the curly haired classmate critically. Philo groans from resignation, bringing his hands out of his pocket to swing them loosely at his waist. "Don't let him get to you, Noctis. You banged him up pretty bad, and it was pretty cool to see – he deserved it. He hasn't said a word for days,"

Noctis sits relatively shocked, having to process so much at once. "It's okay, I – I know it can be weird – the dog's my friend's dog, and – it's a royal thing, I guess, is the best way I can explain it, but – I shouldn't have done that to Maximus, he didn't put his hands on me, he just said something I didn't like, and that's not right," Noctis finishes his rapidly uttered sentence with dull conviction, nodding his head slightly as he bends down sideways to pick up his brief case.

"Look, I get you gotta practice your politically correct answers for when you're _king_ and all, but I don't care what kinda answers stuffy tradition expects out of you, Noctis, he was antagonizing you and you know it, and I'm sorry that our big mouths got you into that situation,"

"It's okay, it really is," Noctis assures him genuinely. He can tell the two - or at least Philo - had been rehearsing the conversation since his absence on Friday. "Let me ask you this," Noctis mumbles, Prompto and Philo looking at him expectantly.

"Do people _hate_ me?"

"What?! _No!_ " Philo exclaims in disbelief so pointed Noctis and Prompto jump. "Are you _blind_ , dude?! Every girl wants you and nearly every guy wants to _be_ you-! Well, except Maximus, but that guy's _clearly_ got other issues,"

"What do you mean?"

"What he's saying, Noct, is that it sounds like this whole last semester has been a bit of an understanding…" Prompto chimes in.

"I mean, I won't say people aren't _talking_ , and some people _do_ find you a little odd, but everyone's been hoping to do what Prompto seems to have managed to do,"

"What's that?" Noctis asks cluelessly, looking up between them both.

"Is he serious?" Philo asks Prompto, who laughs and shrugs before leaning against the window. "Everyone avoids you because we just assumed you hated us,"

"I avoided everyone because you all were talking about me behind my back!"

"You must not be listening, your highness, because apart from Max and a couple of idiots, everyone wants to know what the hell you're about," Philo explains, Noctis looking around the classroom. "That's why they're talking about you - you're mysterious, brooding, handsome -"

" _I am?"_ Noctis whispers thoughtfully, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window. He certainly felt himself to be a good looking person, but nothing spectacular.

"Girls are gonna like that anyway, especially when it's a prince - they talk because _you_ never do,"

"Guess I am a social disaster…" Noctis groans, staring up at the ceiling.

"It's okay, we expect it - you're a private school kid, and _royalty_ on top of that!"

"Gee, thanks…but is he here today? Max?"

"He is, but everyone's been giving him shit the last few days – a few people have been making fun of him for getting smashed by you, but most of the people in the class thought it was pretty cool,"

"I'd rather _not_ have people praising me for beating up a classmate," Noctis explains through gritted teeth as Philo waves quickly to the two of them before returning to his seat, only a minute of lunch remaining.

"Well, it's a start?" Prompto shrugs as the rest of the class returns and takes their seats, Mr. Fabius filling into class as the bell signaling the start of lessons drones once more.

* * *

 

"I _may_ be a nerd, but I know what I'm talking about!" Prompto grins, pointing his index finger into Noctis' chest before beaming smugly as the class files out toward the courtyard at the end of the day. "See? I told you no one hated you! They were just afraid of you and thought you were an asshole!"

" _Gee_ , way to pretty it up there, Prompto," 

"Well there's a difference between outright _despising_ someone and severely disliking them from a defensive standpoint,"

"Seriously, Prompto, I think dad should hire you as family Spokesman," 

"No, no, no, like, everyone hated _you_ , because they thought _you_ hated them! No one actually hated you the whole time for no _reason_ , it was all just a misunderstanding!"

"Maybe I _would_ rather deal with international politics than whatever this shit is that normal people go through,"

"It's okay now, though! Even Maximus sat on the other side of the room and didn't say anything! I bet he's _royally_ pissed now he doesn't have anyone to gloat to! See what I did there? _Royally pissed_?" Prompto squeaks, nudging Noctis gently with his elbow and wagging his eyebrows.

"Pfft - It's easy for you guys to say and speculate on all of those being on the other side of the situation, everyone was talking about me _all_ the time," Noctis reminds him coldly.

"That's what happens when you don't stop and listen to what people'll're saying, bud," Prompto offers with a shrug of his shoulders.

It was as if emotional floodgates that had separated Noctis from his classmates had broken; almost at once, a stifling wave of positive attention had nearly swept Noctis underneath its rushing current since his conversation with Philo that afternoon.

"I guess _so_ ," Noctis grins uncertainly as he nervously waves at a group of girls from across the courtyard, who had waved first at him. "Do social trends like this usually happen so _fast_?"

" _Ohhh, yeah_. And it's the first time in my life I could ever say I've started a _trend_ ," Prompto laughs. "Now that it's catchin' on, looks like I'm gonna be fighting the whole school off for the role of best friend, huh?"

"Hell no, does it look like I feel like remembering all these peoples' usernames in King's Knight?" Noctis scoffs, giving Prompto a shove, as he doesn't share the young man's joke. "Seriously, though. Everyone _seems_ nice, now that they don't seem to hate me in the two hours since this all began, but one friend is all I think I can really handle right now, and all I really wanna handle,"

"Cool," Prompto whispers, the two sharing a silent smile as Ignis pulls up in his standard black car, the two climbing in the back.

" _Oh my God, did you see that car that just picked him up?!"_

" _Wow, imagine getting in the back seat with Noctis!"_

" _Forget the dog, let's talk about that car!"_

"People sure are always gonna talk though, so get used to that regardless - hey, Ignis,"

"Prompto," Ignis nods kindly, looking back at him over his shoulder. "Well, Noct? How was school?"

"Uhh, I know what it's like to become a celebrity overnight, I guess," he replies, still somewhat dazed as he looks at the group of whispering students beyond the tinted window.

"You're a _prince_..." Ignis raises a hand and narrows his eyes, shaking his head at the ridiculous statement.

"Noct had a bit of an unexpected breakthrough today in class today," Prompto fills the brunette in, leaning his elbows over the back of the front seats.

"Meaning…?"

"He basically went from everyone hating him to everyone loving him," Prompto explains simply.

"Oh?! What brought the sudden change about, then?!"

"One of our classmates just kinda…came up and talked to me," Noctis cannot help but laugh at the absurdity of his equally simplistic explanation.

"Yeah, then _everyone_ did once they saw Philo did it, everyone; like, our biology teacher got kinda miffed 'cause everyone kept goin' over to Noct like, _'yo, Noct, I thought you hated me dude, but were cool now'_ in the middle of class,"

"Really? That's the whole gist, then? No other details? Ignis questions suspiciously as the two in the back quickly shake their heads. "Teenagers really have gotten more fickle since I was one, I suppose…"

"What do you think Maximus meant by _'stay away from me, Caelum'_?" Prompto asks worriedly.

"Probably exactly what it sounds like; I have no problem obliging if it gets him off my back – I get the feeling he's not going to be one of our classmates with a sudden change of heart,"

"Right, and you boys best watch yourselves, and Noct best not let his newfound popularity distract him from his studies,"

"Okay _Mom_ ," Noctis laughs sarcastically.

"Right, but who _cares_ about them, right?! I'm goin' to the _castle_ , havin' dinner on plates worth more than my entire family's networth!"

Ignis raises his eyebrows at the blonde's excitement, sharing a stern look with Noctis. "I hope you're this excited over all the _homework_ the two've you'll be doing!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Prompto rolls down a window, taking a snapshot of a Glaive standing guard as the gates part and Ignis drives ahead.

"Oh yeah, Prompto's a photographer - is it alright if he snaps some pics?"

"If I find any of them sold to a tabloid, newspaper, or online, I _will_ find you and it will _not_ be pleasant," Ignis warns the blonde, who salutes him mindfully.

"Aye, aye - I like the pics for myself, anyway. I don't even upload them anywhere, other than my storage cloud on my computer at home,"

"That'd best be the truth you stick to, I can assure you if someone other than myself catches you doing anything unruly, they won't be nearly as kind as myself," Ignis warns as he pulls the keys out of th ignition, Prompto lingering back in a nervous attempt at casualty with Noctis as Ignis proceeds up the usual marble staircase.

"I didn't…do anything wrong, did I?"

"What? No, but just be careful, not everyone knows you're here with me, so make sure not to wander off,"

"R-right…" Prompto nods. He's careful to stay on Noctis' heels, the young man running up the steps with ease, whilst Prompto pants as they reach the top landing, his hands gripped around the golden banister. "So much for not being a track runner, dude,"

"Pfft, you get used to it," Noctis grins, Prompto's jaw dropping. Noctis turns around at the sound of rapid shutter clicks, the blonde snapping what must have been dozens of pictures in the mere seconds the black haired boy had his back turned. There was much to admire for a new comer. Although the floors are merely hardwood in this hallway, they are waxed to the point that the reflections of the chandeliers dangling above them serve as an extra light source. The stone walls are painted a soft white with silver ornamentation snaking its way asymmetrically all along the walls and ceilings, old portraits and paintings of Lucian kings decking its entire length.

"We aren't even gonna make it to my wing or bedroom if you can't get past the foyer," Noctis chuckles.

" _Your wing? Your bedroom?! Your bedroom is in your own personal wing of this place?!"_ Prompto's hands accompany his disbelief as he wildly casts them in front of him. "Uh yeah, isn't everyone's?" Noctis asks sarcastically, resting his chest against Prompto's back in order to see his pictures more clearly.

"Oh…" the blonde whispers at the touch, silently pressing the arrow every few seconds to flip through the various photos. All of them seem to capture Noctis' normal view of his own home with a re-imagined sense of beauty; whether it was Prompto's manipulation techniques with lights and angles, or merely the ability of his eyes to perceive a spectrum of beauty unique only to him, he cannot say exactly, simply that the blonde's work is stellar.

"How the hell do you do this, Prom?"

"I just…see a moment and I snap it, I guess. You can't just snap anything, though, see? Watch -" Prompto shoves his camera under Noctis' nose, and sure enough, Prompto merely snapped an uninteresting, dull photo of the ceiling. "You just…have to see a moment, get it in the frame, and hit the button,"

"Something tells me it's not that easy, but no artist can give words to what they do, I guess…"

"Did you just call me an artist, Noct? I'm flattered!" Prompto curtsies jokingly, grinning. "But seriously, though, look at this place!" he gestures around them, running to a random portrait further along the hall.

"…That's the first Queen of Lucis….eight hundred years ago I wanna say?"

"Shouldn't you know? I mean she is _your_ grandma,"

"Do you know who _your_ grandma was eight hundred years ago?" Noctis asks smugly.

"My grandma wasn't the _first_ Queen of Lucis, so why should I?"

Noctis scoffs as he walks further down the hall, Prompto clicking away once more before he joins his friend in walking through a pair of pewter doors, entering a vast ballroom colored in the Caelum motif of black, silver, and white.

"What's this room for?"

"Parties, ceremonies,"

"How can you be so _bored_?"

"Eh, I see it every day,"

"Okay, man!" Prompto shrugs, clicking away once more.

"Let's find either my dad or Ignis, though – let's get some homework outta the way before dinner,"

"Yeah, let me see this whole _wing_ of yours!"

"Right,"

The two walk through another set of doors, and down a couple more short hallways made longer from Prompto's fascination before finally arriving in their grand dining hall, in which Regis, Gladio and Ignis sit at the table, ceasing their conversation as the two enter themselves.

"Noct, is that…?" Prompto mutters in his friend's ear, the color in his face draining as he catches sight of the king.

" _Prompto_ , I take it?" Regis asks, rising from his leather chair at the head of the table.

"Your - Your Majesty!" Prompto stammers, instantly bowing low as Regis approaches them both. "Please, forgive me for encouraging Noctis to skip! I - I didn't mean -"

"A friend of Noctis is a friend of mine, there is no need for formalities. Please, call me Regis," he places a strong, kind hand on Prompto's shoulder, before the blonde rises once more and uses his own to shake Regis' now outstretched hand. "Though I must warn you both that your free pass to skip school has already been expended," he chuckles, and Noctis cannot help but smile at his friend's dumbfounded admiration of his father.

" _My parents are not going to believe this…"_ he mumbles.

"So this is him, eh?" Gladio too rises, Prompto certain he had never seen a man as broad or tall as Noctis' other friend in his entire life. "Nice to meet you - been hearin' a lot about the waves you've been causing over the last few days,"

"Hey, Gladio, right? I've heard about you, too -- I-I'm Prompto…" he shakes Gladio's hand as well. "Nice set of muscles on you, kid - you work out?"

"I run!" Prompto nods, digging his feet nervously into the ground.

"Take this one with you sometime. You stayin' for dinner?"

"Yes, hopefully - I-if it's alright with everyone, of course…"

"Should no one have any objections, then I must say you are welcome anytime you please," Regis nods.

"You boys know to get started on your homework, however,"

"Yes, Ignis, we were just coming to see what time dinner started,"

"Should be four o'clock as always, provided everything goes according to plan,"

"What subject you guys gotta slug through?" Gladio asks sympathetically.

"Just more calculus, and a biology lab report,"

"Sure as hell don't miss those days…" Gladio crosses his arms, shaking his head.

"Say, while I actually have you two here…" Ignis begins, standing up from the table as well, phone in hand. "I heard you all talking about your _King's Knight_ game and decided to download the app -"

"Where you been, Iggy?!" Gladio holds his own phone up, pointing to the icon on his home screen. "Even Iris is in on the fun,"

"It's true," Noctis shrugs, smiling up at the bespectacled man.

"Well - I was hoping to add you alls' _usernames_ to my game list so that I don't have to do all the tapping on my own - I've made it up to level ten -"

" _And_   he's addicted…" Prompto sighs.

"Heh. Levels are easy to clear in co-op instead of versus. Let's get a party game goin', as long as no one minds startin' over," Gladio suggests.

"I'm down. Everyone add each other," Noctis whips out his phone as well. "You have it installed _too_ , dad?"

"I wish I could say I knew what the app even _was_ , but I cannot find Drautos, and I do not know how to access the playstore without him," he admits sadly, at which Prompto bursts out laughing. "I'll gladly help you, your Highness,"

"No matter, King's Knight sounds like something strictly for _Fifty and under_ ,"

"Good thing you're forty five," Noctis beams.

"If I can find Drautos, which I need to anyway, we've been scheduled with an Impromptu meeting with the new Chancellor of Niflheim…"

"Huh?" Noctis asks his father quietly, the three behind him exchanging usernames.

" _No, Bespectacled_Babe with a '3' instead of 'e's…"_ Ignis corrects quietly on Prompto's phone.

"No matter, it should not take too much time. It is only two, after all, I do not suspect it should run past dinner. If you all would have me, I must attend to certain matters. Prompto, lovely to meet my son's best friend. I hope to see you stay for dinner," Regis nods to the others before exiting the dining room without another word.

"Leatherdaddy92… I can't believe there were 91 other leather daddies," Prompto shakes his head.

"It's supposed to be tongue in cheek, now! It's what all the girls on this old dating app I used to use would call me - Oh, and my sister is Moogle_Whisperer," Gladio assures him.

"Now that we have all the fun and games quite literally sorted, I suggest you two take to Noctis' bedroom for some studying,"

"Don't start King's Knight without us, though," Noctis warns, the two waving at the others before Noctis guides Prompto through the set of doors leading to his own private wing.

"He seems nice," Gladio starts, placing his hands on his hips and smiling. "A bit dorky, but there's no way he could be Noctis' friend for nearly a whole week without a bit of dork in 'im,"

"Yes, he really is growing on Noct, Regis seems to like him off the bat, and I must say he does a bit to brighten up the drive home. He is a kind young man,"

"I can't believe you thought that kid would be a threat, and that Noct wouldn't be able to handle it," Gladio chuckles, shaking his head as Ignis takes his forehead into his hand.

"You'll never let me live it down, will you?"

"Absolutely not."

* * *

 

"What's in this room?"

"Another library,"

"And this room?!"

"That's where the Council meets on interior affairs," Noctis rolls his eyes, the name alone boring him nearly to tears.

"Something gives me the idea that there's more behind that door than just a chair and some tables" Prompto asks through a suspicious gaze, his eyes lingering on the thick, white doors.

"Not much else, trust me, that room is a drag…" Noctis moans, Prompto looking through the keyhole excitedly.

"Yeah, but we don't have to worry about that right now! We get to chill,  _and_ we get our work outta the way!"

"Don't tell Iggy we have a Chemistry test or else he'll have us here all night…"

"Oo! We'll save that excuse for when he won't let me stay over!" Prompto nods, Noctis grinning and hooking his pinky with Prompto's.

"Deal,"

"Hey, uh, Noct?" Prompto asks in a suddenly much quieter voice, catching Noctis off guard. The blonde stares straight ahead, peering down the lengthy hallway.

"Yo,"

"Who's that guy up there with your dad?"

Noctis narrows his eyes as he only just registers his father at the end of the hallway, talking indeed to a strange man neither of them had ever seen before.

"Noct?" Prompto whispers as his friend increases his pace, shoulders tensed as he approaches the two men who stand hushed in almost undetectable dialogue.

"…I take it this is the Son of Lucis, then?" the stranger growls seductively, his eyes tracing Noctis' approach before darting back to Regis.

"What business do you have, bringing my son into this?!" Regis retorts, a sense of anger and strength resonating through the deep and commanding tone he adopts.

"Why, the business he seems to have for _me_ , your Highness…"

"Who is this, dad?" Noctis snaps before he can stop himself as he reaches the stationary men.

"Manners, manners, have you taught your boy none, Regis? Or does a busy man such as yourself have no time of your _own_ to spare for rearing? Ardyn Izunia, newly elected Chancellor of the Niflheim Empire, is _precisely_ who the _Hell_ I am - Noctis Lucis Caelum, I take it…" Ardyn bows, crossing his leg in front of the other.

"You being in this hall unaccompanied implies that you've taken the path through my son's private quarters!" Regis reiterates sternly, Prompto merely looking between the three men in awkward silence.

"Please, I arrived much earlier than anticipated, thus your royal escorts missed me by mere minutes. Rather than trouble such hard working individuals, I took it upon myself to spare them the hassle and take in the surroundings of our dear Lucian royals," Ardyn attempts to mask his subterfuge with flattery, Prompto certain the two men do not fall for it; Regis frowns sternly, whilst Noctis watches in disgust, arms crossed against his chest. "Come now, is it unreasonable to believe that a first time visitor merely lost his way? If I truly meant ill will, would I come alone, unarmed and unguarded?" the man slyly questions. Prompto had no formal political education, but he found himself perfectly capable of instantly distrusting the man that stands before them despite the lack of one. The tall, slightly tan man's frame is made larger by the excessive amount of gaudy cloaks and shawls he wears, his green pantaloons accented with a series of paisley bandanas tied around his waist. His flowing purple hair is crowned with a pinstriped fedora, and his perfectly sculpted jaw is outlined with grey and black stubble.

Were this man a representative of the entire nation of Niflheim's fashion sense, Prompto would say without hesitation the Caelums were the more fashionable dignitaries of the two.

" _Oo, next time I suggest we host negotiations at my place, I am the far more gracious host,"_ the one who introduced himself as Ardyn hisses to no one in particular, Prompto thankful to see Gladio and Ignis come running down the hall themselves.

"Are you alright, your Highness?!" Gladio asks gruffly, placing an hand on Ignis' slightly winded frame, the two newcomers catching Ardyn's immediate interest.

" _Then again, if such fine faces are your escorts, my liege, I may perhaps be convinced to stick around a while longer,"_

"Who the hell is this?!" Gladio snaps in repulsed shock, hands outstretched. "Noct, Prompto's cool to stay, but now I'm _really_ starting to question your taste in friends -"

"Our visit from Niflheim's newly sworn in Chancellor has commenced earlier than we thought it would," Regis explains calmly, his eyes burning with a warning at Ardyn that Prompto would heed were the same gaze directed toward him. "I caught him slowly sauntering down this very hallway, taking what I would consider a bit too much interest in my son's quarters…"

"Perhaps I'm just, _admiring your sense of Interior Decoration_ , hmm?" Ardyn shrugs, smiling broadly. "Political exchanges can also be cultural - I'm just collecting ideas for my own palace, is all…"

"Can you escort this man to my throne room? I shall be not even ten seconds behind you," Regis ignores the Chancellor, Gladio and Ignis nodding. Gladio walks in front, Ardyn in the middle, and Ignis slowly brings up the rear. A shiver runs down Prompto's spine as his eyes meet Ardyn's, who stops and extends a hand to trace the blonde's jaw line.

" _GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM-!"_ Noctis roars, his father pulling him back and holding him in place.

"Excellent quality…they simply do not make them as… _life like_ as they used to…" he whispers, Prompto closing his eyes as Ardyn's warm breath travels over his freckled face. Ardyn turns back to face Noctis, smiling deviously as he turns his expression back to Prompto. "Interesting you should find yourself here…Perhaps you're all the more _functional_ than you look…" he whispers before taking another look back at the prince. " _Funny_ , how it all comes full circle like that…" he trails off before letting go sharply of Prompto's chin, the three men carrying on further down the hall and out of sight.

"… _Don't you ever rush forward like that again, do you understand me Noctis!"_ Regis pushes Noctis against the wall with such urgent force that Prompto winces, his friend however eliciting no sound from the impact.

"I would never let any ill befall any of you, so long as I live, and as long as Prompto was in no danger, if you had struck - " Regis closes his eyes before letting his son go softly, setting down the hallway and following the three men without another word.

"Noct…" Prompto rushes toward his friend, who simply stands there in silent shock and anger. "Are…are they going to be okay?" Prompto whispers, watching as an entourage of five or six men in black double breasted cloaks rush past them, various swords, sabers, and daggers on their hips.

"My father has his Glaives…" is all Noctis spares in terms of explanation before shaking his head and finally turning toward Prompto. "Are you hurt?"

"No…" Prompto whispers, still slightly shaken from what he'd witnessed, and the strange man's even stranger words.

"What did he mean just now?" Noctis spits, Prompto swallowing harshly, lip quivering from nerves as he shakes his head. "I-I have no idea, I've never seen that man in my life -"

"Well he gives me the fucking creeps,"

"Yeah, no kidding, Noct…"

"Great. I invite you over _one time_ and of course you get dragged into the… _family business_ …"

"Good thing I'm less temperamental than our classmates, huh?" Prompto tries to joke, taken aback as Noctis extends a hand to brush gently against Prompto's cheek where Ardyn had touched him before.

"Nothing feels different, right?"

"No…"

The two stare at each other in silence another half a minute further before glancing down the hall and back toward each other once more.

"I'm so sorry Prompto -"

"It's - well, not _okay_ , but - but _I'm_ okay, and you and your dad and Iggy and Gladio are okay…"

"Yeah…"

"…And I guarantee you that whole incident won't get us out of homework with either the teachers or Ignis -"

Noctis snorts in spite of himself.

"You're right. What's the creepy chancellor from the super evil Empire one town over hangin' out in your house and weirding out your family when you have _calculus homework_ to do?!"

* * *

The two young men had only gotten to problem two of their homework before Ignis had entered Noctis' room without warning, saying the chancellor had extended his allegedly sincerest apologies toward Noctis and his friend and left without further incident after concluding negotiations with Regis. Regardless, the castle was on high alert for the remainder of the week, and he felt it most appropriate to take Prompto home with a couple of Glaives in the car for safe measure.

Although Noctis knew it to be logically best not to protest, he could not help but mourn the immediate absence of his best friend. He had attempted to finish his homework for the remainder of the night, finally shutting the last of his textbooks at a quarter before midnight. He quickly washed himself before stripping himself into merely his underwear and nightshirt and crawling into bed, his mind still buzzing, electrified with thoughts of the events that transpired only hours before.

His blankets are soft and warm, yet still do not strip him of all his anxieties like they usually do. Regardless, It does not take him long to drift off to sleep as his body ultimately wins the battle of exhaustion against his mind.

His dreams are intense and vivid.

He sits sprawled out on his floor once more, together with Prompto, the entire surface covered in papers, their words illegible, for upon them is merely the frightening, violent scribbles of dark pencil.

" _What was his name again?!"_ Prompto shouts, but his voice is tinny and distorted, as if he were underwater a thousand miles away.

Noctis opens his mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out, as if his vocal chords had been severed. Prompto's soft features twist up in unholy rage as the young man violently reaches for another sheet of paper on the floor, attempting to scrawl a name down before he crosses it out into a dark black mass of graphite, the demonic shriek that escapes the blonde's lips in frustration causing Noctis to cover his ears and double forward towards the ground.

Yet when he sits back up, he no longer finds his friend, even is his demonic form. Instead, an actual Daemon towers before him in the form of a giant Marilith, the one who almost took his life, all his years ago -

He crawls backwards toward his dresser, the Marilith taking a swipe at his chest and throat his her great swords - he lifts his hand above his face as she goes to strike again, but a sudden warmth envelops him in light, and Noctis finds himself in a solid white room with nothing before him save a cat-like, small, aquamarine colored creature with a Ruby set on his forehead -

" _Carbuncle!"_ Noctis calls out gleefully, yet as he attempts to rush forward, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, yet he cannot find it - the phone continues to buzz until Noctis finds the swirl of his dream fading into the reality of his undisturbed bedroom turned navy black, illuminated by the light of the moon.

The buzzing of the dream carries over as his sheets vibrate, the prince rubbing his eyes before he scrambles to collect his phone from the other side of his pillow, seeing Prompto's name flash across the display.

"Prompto, are you okay?!"

" _N-Noct, I'm fine -"_

"Ughhh…" Noctis closes his eyes and slams back against the pillow in relief, still half asleep yet on the line. "What time is it…?"

" _Four-thirty - I'm sorry, I just had the worst nightmare ever…"_

"Yeah, me too…" Noctis replies groggily.

" _But - as it was getting worse, and I thought I was gonna die - this little blue cat thing saved me – but - but when I woke up, the blue cat thing was on my bed -!"_

"Blue…cat thing…?" Noctis slowly repeats before sitting up with a jolt of adrenaline in his realization. "Prompto, can you tell me more about this blue cat thing?!"

" _It had a red jewel in his forehead…and it squeaked when it talked…and I know this is gonna sound stupid, but somehow I knew it was connected to you, Noct - that and when I saw it after I woke up, I figured it was just another one of your weird animal friends…"_

"Well…you're right…" Noctis laughs into the phone, his eyes still closed. "That's just Carbuncle. He likes to help out…"

" _Carbuncle…right…I'm definitely gonna save the explanation for tomorrow, when we're more awake…Well…I'm glad you're okay…I just wanted to call and make sure he was one of yours before I started screaming and woke everyone up,"_

"You're fine, Prompto…I'll see you at school on Monday, okay?"

" _More like in a few hours…Noct?"_

The young man's phone falls out of his grip and onto the floor, for Noctis had already fallen immediately back to sleep. A small cat-like creature hits the red _End Call_ button before sending Prompto a good night text, assuring him he would see Noctis in the morning. He jumps the six feet off the ground it requires to reach Noctis' mattress, curling up at the foot of the young man's bed, and keeping peaceful watch until dawn.

* * *

 


	7. Anxiety

Breakfast the next morning is almost entirely silent, save for the sounds of their silverware clinking against the dishes they barely touch. Noctis’ hair sticks up wildly in various unkempt directions, having done little personal maintenance before joining Gladio and Ignis at the table. Regis’s usual throne is vacant, his father having left before sunrise for Niflheim together with Gladio’s own father in what was most likely to be the first of many diplomatic excursions.

“You look like shit,” Gladio blurts, Noctis’ heavy, lidded eyes not even bothering to travel toward his bodyguard. “Didn’t get much sleep,” he grumbles before slamming his front against the table, curling against it in an attempt to gain yet more.

“It’s nearly nine o’clock, you sick or somethin’?”

“Bad dreams,” Noctis replies shortly, his voice muffled by the crook of his arm.

“Well you must find it within you to gain some strength for the day, lest you waste a perfectly good Saturday…” Ignis warns, picking up everyone’s dishes as it becomes clear everyone is done eating. “I’ll wrap these up and stick them in the pantry for later…”

Noctis’ soft snores are timed rhythmically with the rise and fall of his body as he breathes, Gladio smiling sadly before he extends a hand and gently pushes the prince awake. “Least get a shower, bud…”

“Yeah…” Noctis stretches, staring at his reflection in the table sadly. “You don’t think Prompto would want to stop talking to me after what happened yesterday, do you?”

“Is that the cause of your concern? I see…mmm, that might not be so much a wish of _his_ , as much as his parents,” Ignis begins, tossing the other two a cup of yogurt as he settles into the one he is already in the middle of consuming.

“What do you mean?”

“We dropped him off at his home yesterday – in an unmarked decoy car, of course --- and Mr. and Mrs. Argentum were not entirely ecstatic over the Prompto we returned versus the one they’d sent to school that morning…”

“What happened?!” Gladio leans in closer.

“He tried his best to hide his nervousness, but the poor thing was white as a ghost, and he already isn’t exactly glowing with the healthiest tan I’ve seen. He shook all the way into his living room, and when his parents asked just why three Glaives, I, and their son were in the living room without Noctis, Prompto threw up everywhere as soon as he opened his mouth…”

“Yeesh…”

“Naturally we explained the situation --- merely that he had witnessed an unsettling exchange that left him a little shaken up, and that while we had no further cause for concern, his safety was of utmost importance to us…”

“So what did his parents say?”

“We kept it rather short --- they sent Prompto to bed right away…”

Noctis’ hands grip tighter into his hair before he puts his head down in resignation once more.

“Has he not tried to call you, or anything?” Gladio asks.

“…Well, he did give me a call last night…it must’ve been early…” Noctis remembers hopefully.

“Well then there you go, at least his parents haven’t forcefully deleted you from his phone, and he clearly wants to keep seeing you,”

“If indeed you two are allowed to continue your friendship, Gladio and I were actually thinking of something…”

“Yeah, so…” Gladio starts, not actually looking at the black haired boy as he scrapes out the rest of his yogurt with his spoon. “Iggy and I figured that if we’re going to be having a civilian in and out of our lives, we should probably give him some proper training, too,”

“What do you mean, like _etiquette lessons_?!” Noctis sneers, plucking fruit pieces out of his own yogurt cups.

“No, boxing lessons, shooting lessons, lessons on how to handle an axe, or a sword, a polearm,” Gladio continues firmly, Ignis glaring at Noctis, unbeknownst to the prince, until he eats the strawberry pieces he’d discarded before one by one. “I don’t like fruit _in_ my yogurt…” Noctis mumbles.

“Knowing which fork to eat with your salad isn’t gonna save him in case situations more dire than what happened yesterday should ever come up,” Gladio chuckles.

“It is, after all, why we taught Iris how to use daggers…” Ignis adds.

“I mean, it’s a good idea, and all, but…have you asked him? Or his parents?”

“We sent him a text, but he hasn’t responded,” Ignis

“Well I mean, did you send him _‘hey, we’re gonna teach you a thousand ways to kill a man in case you should ever find yourself in a hostage situation while hanging out with Noctis’_?!”

“Not quite, but --- don’t worry about it, Iggy’s great with words,” Gladio insists. “He’s a good kid and we want to see him stay safe. It’s just a precaution,”

“You’re right…” Noctis sighs. The two already had much to talk about --- their dreams, Carbuncle, the events that had transpired the day before, the future status of their friendship…

“Why do you think he hasn’t texted back?” Noctis asks suddenly, trying desperately to play the question off as coolly as he can, but no one can mistake the anxious worry in his voice.

“Could be any reason,”

_‘He probably doesn’t want to see you, or his family took his phone and said he could never talk to you again, or worse…what if someone’s done something to him or his family?!’_

“I…I’m gonna go and see him,” Noctis stands up suddenly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hopefully not before a shower,”

“I’m simply too busy to give you a _ride_ , Noct, I must assist your father’s secretary ---“

“I’ll just drive myself using one of the unmarked cars, it’s fine…”

“Could you at least _pretend_ to ask for permission?”

“May I go and see him?” Noctis huffs quickly, mid text with the young man as it is.

“And you know I don’t like you driving alone, you’ve never truly done it before ---“

“I don’t _care_ , Ignis! Tell me whether I can or can’t!”

“…Be back by two and I _mean_ it, Noct, you have your own training to do,”

“I will be, I promise, I just…I wanna clear some stuff up…” he frowns nervously, three minutes having gone by without a response from the blonde. “And he’s not answering his phone…I’m gonna go check on him,”

“ _Please_ be careful,” Ignis pleads after the young man as he takes off from the dining room in a sudden burst of inspiration.

“You’re getting better, Iggy! Way to not panic, there!”

“Please, I’m just letting him get the bug out of his system that way he comes back to his training with you undistracted,”

* * *

 

The young man had not even waited until his hair dried before rushing out of the castle with his phone and a set of car keys in hand. He climbs into the driver’s seat of an unsuspecting, dark blue car with tinted windows, the automobile showing otherwise no sign of being connected to the Caelum family in any way. He nervously turns the key in the ignition, realizing with sudden excitement that he had not only ever driven a car alone before, but had never done so within the city, or with any sort of legitimate purpose other than practice or joy riding.

Although the interior is comfortable, there was much to be said of driving around in official family cars versus those used for identity obfuscation; the dashboard is a hard, bumpy plastic, the windshield is slightly smeared with finger marks, and the fabric seats (Versus their usual leather) were spotted with dust and grime.

It mattered very little, however, the young man pressing forward on the gas pedal, hands gripped firmly on the steering wheel as he drives as quickly as he can without technically breaking the speed limit to Prompto’s house.

The sky above is a bright white, completely overcast, nearly blinding the young man as he pulls out of the garage and into the city proper. The snow of a few days’ prior was almost entirely melted, leaving the darkness of the city exposed. He scans both sides of the street nervously, signs dangling above his head and on street corners that transform into blurry squiggles as his vision doubles from anxiety.

A car behind him honks aggressively as the light ahead turns green, Noctis’ heart pumping in his throat as his tires skid from pressing on the accelerator a bit too heavily. He stops abruptly before a red light, lurching forward ever slightly. He brings his hands to press the volume button on the radio, mistakenly hitting the climate control and being rushed with a deafening gust of air conditioning ---

_“--- is already said to have arrived in Niflheim this morning with an official royal delegation on what is the second official day of negotiations between the two nations, any additional thoughts on that?_

_\---Yes, indeed! Why are the Caelums only just now beginning negotiations?! A real King would have begun them long ago, and the negotiations would have been with bombs, swords, and fists! We need a real King of Lucis! Hopefully the Prince will do what he can to smash Niflheim into pieces when the time comes! ---“_

“No wonder Iggy never bothers with that dumb thing…” Noctis whispers quietly, instantly turning down the volume of the radio. He expels a single, rattled sigh as he turns sharply down Prompto’s street, pulling up in front of the house and parking, his forehead and palms sweating profusely.

His eyes narrow as he spots the family car across the street, completely idled as if it had not been driven for at least a couple of days. The paisley curtains are pulled down over the windows, and Noctis cannot see any moving shadows beyond them. His heart sinks as he checks his phone, no new notifications from the blonde having flashed up on the screen. He exits his car hurriedly, slamming the door and rushing onto the blonde’s doorstep, resting one hand against the brick façade, the other rapping furiously against the frozen, metal door ---

He doesn’t care as the neighbors who reside in the two townhouses on either side of their joined walls peek out their own windows at the commotion. He nearly falls forward as Prompto suddenly opens his front door, Noctis stepping in without warning.

“What’s going on?! Why aren’t you answering anyone’s texts?!”

 _“Noct?! C-calm down, I just woke up --- my phone’s dead!”_ the blonde sputters, standing still and watching Noctis warily as the prince catches his breath before dropping onto their family’s couch. His cheeks begin to burn up as he notices Prompto’s signature chocobo onesie, a single glass of orange juice and bowl of cereal left abandoned on the kitchen table beyond the threshold.

“I’m not mad, I’m --- I was just nervous…”

“No, it’s --- it’s okay…” Prompto mutters, running his fingers through his hair and plopping down next to Noctis on the couch.

“Where’re your parents?”

“Uh, funny story, actually!” Prompto chuckles nervously. “They took the train to Leide to go buy guns, cause of all that crazy…”

“Great, bet they sure don’t want us hanging around together anymore…”

“I mean, they weren’t excited about all the drama from yesterday, but I told them about how you and your dad…how you guys rushed to save me if I needed it,” Prompto flushes as well, pointedly avoiding Noctis’ eye.

“So, they _don’t_ hate me?”

“No, not at all, Noct, but it was eye opening for them, and for _me_ , what being this close to you might mean for us,”

“I won’t let anything happen to any of you!”

 “I know, and --- thanks Noct…I’m sure we’re overreacting, that Ardyn guy seems kinda eccentric, and all, but not dangerous…”

“Well, we have a lot of stuff to talk about, I guess…” Noctis sighs, tossing the car keys upon a coffee table as Prompto rises to bring his meal into the living room. “You hungry, Noct?”

“Nah, just ate…”

“Well, my parents’ll be back soon, and I dunno how comfortable you feel havin’ this convo’ at Amelia’s,”

“We _probably_ shouldn’t have it in public…” Noctis scratches his head before lighting up with a sudden idea. “Grab your phone and your charger, we can talk in the car,”

“The car? Is Ignis outside?”

“N-no, I drove a car we use for lying low --- my first real time driving,”

“Jeeze, Noct, first you almost attack a Chancellor, now you’re almost getting into car accidents to come and see me, I think _I’m_ the dangerous one for _you_!” he laughs from the kitchen as he rushes up the stairs before returning moments later with his charger and cellphone. “Alright, ready!”

“You’re not gonna change?” Noctis smiles.

“No time, I guess, as long as we’re not getting out of the car it doesn’t really matter…”

Prompto turns a key into the lock of his front door before pocketing it in a pouch on the front of his pajamas, slipping into the passenger seat of Noctis’ car.

“On a scale of one to ten, how gossipy are you neighbors, exactly?” Noctis asks curiously, slowly rolling up a tinted window as a woman makes eye contact with him from behind her curtain.

“Eh, they’ll forget about it by next week…” Prompto chuckles as his friend speeds down his street, plugging his phone into the charger. “Seriously, though,” he adds once his laughter subsides. He could not say entirely where Noctis is driving them, but he cannot help but watch the young man quietly as he drives determinedly around the city, looking for an inconspicuous, yet private place to park and talk. He pulls the chocobo hood over his head as he breaks his one sided gaze, a warmth creeping within him as he grows to realize the passion that literally drove Noctis forward had been Prompto himself. “Whoa ---“ Prompto is immediately spammed by dozens of vibrating notifications from the prince alone as he turns on his phone, ranging from various frantic texts, to missed calls, to group texts from even Gladio and Ignis ---

“This spot should work, right?”

Prompto jumps at the sound of his friend’s voice, the blonde stretching about in his seat to survey that Noctis had parked them amongst other parked cars along the top of the only snowy hill within the city, upon which parents and kids noisily sled a few feet away.

“Yeah, it should be good!”

“Right…” he begins, unbuckling his seat belt and twisting in his seat to face his friend. “I just wanna make one thing clear…you’re still allowed to hang out with me, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Your parents are fine with me ---?”

“They’re a little shook up, but they’re fine, they know you’ve got our back…”

“And with Ignis, and Gladio?”

“Of course!”

“And you… _want_ to continue spending time with me?”

Prompto can hear the choke in the prince’s voice as he pauses on the last question, and he purses his lips for a moment’s time before replying.

“I’m not gonna say yesterday didn’t freak me out, and I’m not gonna pretend like it wasn’t a major wakeup call…all those years ago, I wanted to be you, Noct. I wanted to go home to your home, be called prince, be liked, be wealthy, be famous…” he starts, shaking his head quickly. “I dunno what I’m trying to say right now, but I do know that this last week of my life with you has been more fucked up than any other week I’ve ever had in my life, with your magic dogs and cats and these chancellors, and your crazy mob cars and meeting kings, and I don’t know what other weeks we’re gonna have, but I don’t want to spend them without you,”

Noctis can’t help but smile at his blonde friend, who waves his gaze away with embarrassment. “That sounded really hoakey, but I mean it,”

“Well, that knocks that off the list…but let me tell you about Carbuncle…”

“ _Uh, yeah! Please do!_ ”

“So, when I was little, I got attacked really badly by a Daemon --- really badly. I knew I was going to die, even,”

_“Don’t tell me Carbuncle was that Daemon!”_

“No, you nerd…I got saved by my dad and some Glaives, but I was bed for weeks, barely hanging on, and when my physical wounds healed, the doctors realized I had actually been infected with Starscourge, as blood from the Daemon had transmitted into my own blood stream from my open wounds…”

“Jeeze, Noct…”

“I had never ending nightmares, and I remember my father telling me not to be afraid, because I was King of my dreams, something like that…and one of the few times during that whole season where I woke up, I saw a small statue on my bedside of the creature who’d prevented me from dying all throughout my dream,”

“Cat-like, light blue, red jewel, long whiskers, squeaky?”

“Yup, that’s him…”

“But, he’s not just a dream, or a toy, Noct! He’s real!”

“I know --- I stopped seeing him often once I recovered, but ever since then, I see him out of the corner of my eye all the time throughout the castle. His tail’ll whip into closets or under my bed just as I enter or exit a room sometimes. And I’ll catch him long enough to know he was there, but never so long that I can trace him, but --- he’s been appearing, more and more lately, within and without my dreams, and I see him and I know he’s there --- he slept with me until sunrise last night…”

“Yeah, he was in my dream, and when I woke up, he was curled at my feet,” Prompto whispers.

“Well, he must be paying you a visit since he knows how much you mean to me,” Noctis sighs before unlocking his smart phone and swiping his screen, Prompto finding himself stupefied by his friend’s choice of words. “Tell him thank you…”

“You might be able to yourself, if he plans on sticking around as much as he has, lately --- this what you saw?” Noctis asks, Prompto taking the phone from his hands and smiling down at a picture of what must have been an eleven or so year old Noctis in a wheelchair with the small creature curled in his lap.

“Yup, that’s him…so, any idea what or who he is?”

“My father says it’s an Astral…”

“What?!” Prompto shouts so disbelievingly he nearly bangs his head on the roof of the car

“Don’t you know about the Astrals? You know ---“

“Uh, _yeah_ I know what an Astral is, Noct! Pardon me for being a little freaked that a literal god kept my feet warm last night!”

“Well, there are lesser and greater Astrals, like the six…”

“I can’t get over this, dude! No way!”

“ _Sure_ way, my family’s always been so close to the Oracle and her own family for generations that it’s definitely not unheard of for Astrals to make themselves known to Caelums since the Middle Ages…”

“Okay, but, now Astrals are visiting _me_ , too! Jeeze, Noct? Is there an animal in all of Lucis who doesn’t seem to be rooting for our friendship?”

“Guess not, I have Umbra a lot to thank for scaring the shit out of you and coming to me that day…”

“Yeah, and speaking of Umbra,” Prompto starts, shifting in his seat as his leg falls asleep.

“Remember a few days ago how you, or someone, I can’t remember who --- said that Umbra belonged to a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, this friend of yours wrote me a message, I guess…and if you’re friends with Gods, then…”

“Well, Umbra the dog belongs to my friend Luna…”

“Luna?! As in, _Lady Lunafreya?! The Oracle and Princess of Tenebrae?!_ ”

“Yeah!”

“ _Noct_ , dude, I know you may think these are boring facts to neglect, but you should really keep me in the know…”

“Well, wait a minute, what message did Luna send you?” Noctis asks quietly, Prompto stammering as his stomach falls out from his feet in a sudden lurch. He could not confess that the Lady Oracle, apparently, had confessed to him Noctis’ dire need of a friend, both out of respect for Noctis’ own relationship with the Oracle, as well as Prompto’s own uneasiness regarding her tales of _love and fated worlds_.

“…She just thanked me for helping you that day you fought Max, but she sure as hell didn’t leave a name or number behind…” Prompto chuckles, thankful he is the much better liar of the two.

“That’s how Luna rolls, she can be kinda spacey and magical like that…”

“I haven’t seen Umbra since then, though…”

“Yeah, neither have I --- usually Luna and I talk at least every other day,” Noctis notes, Prompto uncertain whether the slight twinge of jealousy he feels is because Noctis kept constant correspondence with such a beautiful and regal woman, or whether it was because the beautiful and regal woman kept such tight knit correspondence with _Noctis_. He options towards the former as he turns his head to face his friend once more, bringing his knees to rest against the dashboard.

“How do you get all of these smokin’ hot ladies to talk to you, man?” Prompto asks with genuine desperation.

“Dunno, I just sort of _stand around_ and they talk to me,” Noctis shrugs. “I don’t do anything special…”

“I’d love to meet her sometime…” Prompto nods.

“I’ll get her to come over sometime when you’re around,” Noctis assures him, leaning over to peer at the blonde, who stares down at his phone. “Holy shit, Gladio and Ignis want me to train with them?!” Prompto exclaims, scrolling furiously to read the text message in full.

“Oh ---! Yeah, that’s kinda why I got so worried, they were texting you all morning, and when you didn’t answer, I kinda panicked and assumed something bad happened, and ---“

“Your dad’s right, Noct, try not to panic so much! I’m not goin’ anywhere…”

“Well, they’re serious about training you, we wanna make sure you can hold your own, if you’re gonna be around…”

“Well, I probably can’t today, I should definitely let my parents’ nerves settle a bit…”

“Yeah,”

“…But I’ll see you on Monday, and I’m sure by then my parents will have calmed down enough to let me train with you guys…”

“Should I take you home now, then?”

“Yeah, it’s probably for the best, now that I’m thinkin’ about it,”

“Sure…”

The two spend the short drive back to Prompto’s house in silence, the blonde idly picking at a loose thread of fabric on the side of his seat. He silently hopes Noctis does not hold him for unexcited over the prospect of training with the Kingdom’s best; as much as he cherished his relationship with Noctis, as well as his budding one with the others, he felt himself too mentally and emotionally exhausted to add physical exhaustion to the list.

The car comes to a stop as Noctis puts the car in park before Prompto’s small townhouse, Prompto gathering his belongings before turning to Noctis and nodding softly. “I’m really excited…and scared…but mostly excited, about training, Noct, I am…I just need some time to decompress a little bit,”

“No, it’s perfectly fine, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”

“I’m fine, and I’ll text you until Monday, don’t worry,”

“Good, I guess frantic panic isn’t too good of a color on me,” Noctis snorts.

“Oh, and Noct?” Prompto begins, as he exits the car, sticking his head through the door.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a really bad driver and should probably leave the chauffeuring up to Ignis,” he grins before giving the dumbfounded young man a slight push. “It’s the first time I’ve ever really driven, you know!”

“Yeah, so thanks for risking your neck just to check up on us, on _me_ …drive safe, though, and text me as soon as you get back to the castle,” Prompto waves as he walks into his home, his door closing behind him without another word.

* * *

 

Although the urban landscape could not compare to those spring times spent under the canopies of Tenebrae, Insomnia in the spring was Noctis’ personal favorite time of year. He loved the smell of the wet concrete and pavement, the budding beginnings of warmth in the humid air, replacing the smell of burning smoke that rode upon the cold of winter.

He loved the grey sunlight that pooled in through his windows, brushing him awake at an hour he had grown to associate with alienating darkness. He loved the sound of rain as it shattered against his tall windows, through which he would look to admire the dark ashes of storm clouds that penetrated his father’s wall with ease.

He loved the static, acidic smell of lightning that flashed close to home, relishing the electrifying feel on his skin as his hair stood on edge.

He loved abandoning his heavy coats, scarves, and gloves (less for him to lose) in the garderobe, exchanging them instead for slick boots and puffer vests. He loved the sound of Ignis’ windshield wipers on long car trips, and water displacement under the tires. Most of all, however, Noctis loved that fishing season had started up once more.

Anyone who had ever known Noctis through the winter and into spring could attribute the general swell of sudden positivity to be directly proportional to his ability to fish. Where Prompto would have assuredly been able to ask Noctis to stick behind with him after school in the winter, he would have equally as assuredly been forced to endure an eye roll and a huff, or crossed arms before agreeing.

Yet today is the first day the two had stayed at school after hours since early February to bake a surprise cake for Ignis’ twenty-first birthday _(“I love the tiers, you two, and while I appreciate the strawberry and blackberry garnish on the edge, that still doesn’t change the fact that I can see the sugar crystals in the icing from here,” “Yeah, and that still doesn’t change the fact that you had five slices!” Prompto dished back, earning two high fives from Gladio and Noctis. Although the highlight of the night had not been until a very tipsy Ignis grinded against a particularly disturbed young maid with no music, a scene he swears he does not remember)_.

Noctis leans casually against a chain link fence, his crossed feet squelched deep in the mud in which they further sink. The trees and bushes that scatter the school grounds are tipped with green buds whose puckered leaves harbor droplets of rain that periodically fall on Noctis’ head. He smiles at Prompto, who stands dressed in a red undershirt and running shorts, takes his position at the starting line upon a track field some thirty feet away.

Once finished stretching, the blonde smiles back softly before waving, Noctis waving back, eyes glittering as he admires his friend amongst the throng of various athletic pupils. A whistle blows, and instantly the throng of young men take off in unsynchronized displays of agility. Where dust would normally kick up in their wake on drier days, mud, grass, and rain flings beneath their heels instead.

Noctis, who had suffered a bad leg in addition to Starscourge from the Daemon attack as a child, winces as he mentally envisions himself in Prompto’s position, face planting immediately upon encountering a puddle. Where other students too, had clusters of friends on the sidelines cheering them on, Noctis follows Prompto silently with his eyes, clapping him on supportively, yet hoping not to draw too much attention to himself.

He hisses disappointedly through his teeth as Prompto rushes across the finish line in third, the blonde skidding a few feet forward before hanging his head down in defeat for a few seconds.

“I thought you did great!” Noctis calls toward his friend as Prompto walks over, hands on his hips and panting. “Yeah, but --- _third_ \--- I’ll be lucky if I even make the alternate callback list…” he sighs, hoisting himself above the waist high fence, splattering yet more mud against his bare shins as he lands.

“Come on, Prompt, I didn’t see how well you did in the other tryout events, but I’m sure you did fine,” Noctis wraps an arm around his shoulder, handing him his brief case and bottled water. “When do you hear back?”

“ _Hopefully_ next week or so…” Prompto sighs, unable to hide his disappointment.

“…Well, if they don’t take you on, I’ll hold a track event in the gym back at the castle,” Noctis beams as the two wrench their feet from the sludgy ground and toward where Ignis is parked and waiting. “I’ll call it somethin’ dumb, like the track meets to end all track meets, where we crown the king of track, ‘cause it’s at the castle, and any time someone runs ahead of you, I’ll trip them ---“

 _“Pfft--- Noct!”_ Prompto laughs, pinching his face as he spits water through his nose.

“But who’s gonna say _‘That Prompto guy only won because the prince tripped everyone else!’_ No one, that’s who, who would believe them?!” Noctis laughs too, though his smile fades as they walk past Maximus and his friends who sit upon the top of a couple of lunch tables, flicking their cigarettes and cracking their knuckles as they catch sight of the two of them walking across the field.

“Don’t worry about them, Noct, they haven’t bothered us in a while…” Prompto whispers.

“Yeah…”

“Although, I am kinda hoping he gives me the excuse to put all the moves I’ve learned with you guys into practice!”

“Maybe if you clobber him this time you can realign his nose,” Noctis snaps, Maximus’ nose having healed devastatingly crooked since their fight in December. Prompto hits him playfully with his briefcase, giving Noctis a disapproving look.

“You started it!” Noctis laughs, opening up the backseat to Ignis’ car to allow Prompto to slide in first.

_“AH, AH AH ---!”_

The two of them jump at the sound of Ignis’ scornful warning.

“Absolutely not with all that dirt the two’ve you are about to track in here!” he swings an arm behind him to swat them out of the car.

“So what are we supposed to do?!”

“Toss your shoes in the trunk and put your jackets down across the seats!”

The trunk pops almost immediately, the two hopping in place as they remove their shoes and scramble into the backseat before their socks can get too wet.

“That’s better!”

“Smell my track feet!” Prompto shrieks, sticking his sweaty, sock-clad toes in Ignis’ face, who jumps and plugs his nose while Noctis holds his stomach from laughter.

“You vile creatures!” Ignis belts, turning around to glare at them both, waving the air around vigorously with his hand. “It is _not_ funny, the two of you smell absolutely rotten!” he shouts over the two juvenile young men and their raucous laughter.

“Dirt or sweaty feet, Iggy, one or the other!” Prompto chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you tell Prompto to take off his shoes right after track,”

“And what’s _your_ excuse?!” Ignis snaps, letting down all the windows before he cuts the wheel and carries on down the hill.

“You both’d better shower before we train, Gladio will behead us all if we track dirt into his dojo,” Ignis looks into the rearview mirror, quickly realizing the two are not paying attention. They both sit at awkward angles on their smartphones, Prompto’s head in Noctis’ lap as he lies flat against the backseat, Noctis leaning his back against the door, one leg stretched across the top of the back seat, the other dangling casually. His eyebrows raise as he catches Noctis’ hand stroking idly through Prompto’s hair, both of them still engaged with their screens.

“Hey dude, take a look at her, fuck, marry, kiss?” Prompto shifts, bringing his screen to Noctis’ face.

“Mm….fiss,”

“Fiss?”

“Fuck and kiss, _duh_ ,”

“Alrighty, then…” Ignis whistles, not even sure with himself where to begin in terms of deconstructing the situation in his back seat.

“Hey, Ig?”

“Yes, Noct?”

“Didn’t you have another spa date with Cindy today?”

“…I did,” Ignis admits, smiling in spite of himself.

“DUDE!” Prompto shouts, Ignis ducking as a sweaty sock narrowly misses him and rests against the dashboard.  “NOT FAIR!”

“Yes, fair, she’s been asking me to reschedule for weeks, I finally decided to put her off no longer,” Ignis explains, Prompto smacking his forehead and groaning, Noctis shaking his head and tisking. “Too slow, Prompto,”

“We’re going to a monster truck rally next week for our second date,”

“Totally sounds like _your_ scene,”

“The things a gentleman will suffer through to put a smile on a woman’s face…” is all Ignis responds with.

“Say, wanna go watch big ass trucks smash shit up?” Noctis suggests to Prompto, who instantly lights up.

“Do I _ever_?!”

“Did you just invite yourself to my date?!” Ignis asks incredulously as he pulls into the palace private garage.

“Yup,”

“You boys know you’re supposed to be watching your backs! You cannot just sit in the crowd of a public show like that!”

“Ugh, we haven’t seen creepy Nif dude in like, three months, Ignis! Plus you’re part of the posse too, why can _you_ go?!”

“It’s still rude to invite yourself to my date!” Ignis stammers, bluntly ignoring their argument.

“We’re not inviting ourselves to your gross Ignis _date_ , we’re inviting ourselves to the rally!”

“Well you’re sitting at least _three_ rows away from Cindy and myself,” he concedes tiredly before pulling the key out of the ignition and popping the trunk

“Text Gladio and see if he can come!” Noctis beams, Prompto nodding excitedly as they exit the car and grab their belongings before whipping out his phone once more.

“You’re about to see him in _person_ , you buffoons!” Ignis, giving up as the two run ahead up the marble steps. “See you in the dojo, Iggy! We’re hitting the showers!”

“Ugh, please do…” he grumbles, throwing a look over his shoulder and rolling down his own car windows with a press of a button on his car keys.

“Ugh, there you are, Gladio…” Ignis jogs to catch up with Gladio, who puts his cellphone in his pocket.

“Hey, date boy --- you see some titty?”

 _“Gladio!”_ Ignis turns red, pressing his glasses up against his face. “I must admit I’m a bit rusty, I never used to be this nervous about copping a feel,”

“You were never one to get rejected!”

“Oh, if only fifteen year old me could see me now…” Ignis sighs humorlessly as the two set down the hallway together. “I suppose you don’t have time in your schedule for a monster truck rally next week?”

“I’m honored, Iggy, but I’d really prefer it if you didn’t run a practice date on me!”

“No…the…the two invited themselves to me and Cindy’s date next week and were blabbering on about inviting you, too,”

“Sorry, Ig, in that case your two man date just turned into five --- count me in,”

“Keep them outta our hair, will you?” Ignis pleads.

“Sure thing, but it may be _their_ hair I have to worry about staying out of…” Gladio mutters.

“Have you seen it too, then?! Their positively _strange_ behavior?”

“Define _strange_ ,”

“Prompto’s head in his lap while Noct strokes his hair while the two also sit in the same position talking about which girl they’d like to _engage_ with,”

“That’s nothin’, I overheard them in Noct’s entertainment room describing their dream dates with some _Amelia_ girl they must know while curled up together on the couch under a blanket,”

“Curled up?” Ignis questions.

“As in limbs tangled,” Gladio grins as Ignis shakes his head.

“Are you suggesting---?”

“I’m not suggesting anything, Iggy, I’m just observin’,” Gladio shrugs. “I mean, I used to wear down the covers on a lot of pillows in this castle using them as make out partners,”

“I suppose, but…I do find their behavior rather interesting,”

“I guess you haven’t caught Noct with his pants down looking at certain ladies on the computer, then…” Gladio mumbles.

“And you have?”

“Twice, unfortunately,” Gladio can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “You see how excited he gets over the thought of Luna, too --- the look on his face as he writes to her, the way he scrambles to the radio if she’s on it --- when’s the last time you saw Noct use a _radio_ if not for her?”

“True…”

“They’ll get through their awkward stage, I bet if you even asked them about it they’d have no idea what you’re even talking about!”

“Right…well, I ought to shower and change, myself,” Ignis mumbles, Gladio strolling over to the two freshly bathed young men who stand dressed in fresh undershirts and sweatpants, petting a dog who wags his tail happily.

“Umbra stop by?” Gladio asks, Prompto nodding as he scratches the dog under his chin while Noctis wistfully writes in the red book.

“Wait there…” he places the book in Prompto’s hands suddenly, who looks down at the prince’s surprisingly beautiful scrawl. “Come to think of it…I’ve never seen Noct’s handwriting, really. A lot of the work we do at school is on the computer, and we text if we aren’t in person…”

“A lot of long nights were spent at his father’s desk getting that script perfect---a prince has to have a regal hand,” Gladio explains, Prompto letting out a soft “Mm…” before reading the his friend’s message.

_This is Prompto. He’s my best friend in the whole world. He’s a great runner and a photographer, and, as we’ve all figured out, is incredible with a gun. He’s not too bad at archery, either._

Noctis takes the book, pasting a photo of the two of them Prompto had taken after school a few weeks ago in the middle of the paper. The camera is angled up high so as to fit the two of them in the frame, Noctis resting his head on his friend’s shoulder and flashing a peace sign, whilst Prompto’s freckled cheeks are puffed in a genuinely mirthful smile.

“Is that going to Lady Luna?” Prompto questions quietly, Noctis nodding. “…Ask her if we can see her soon!”

“Alright, boys! Chop chop!” Ignis booms, dressed in his workout clothes with a towel around his neck.

“Alright, see ya buddy,” Noctis smiles, Prompto giving the dog a nuzzle goodbye before Noctis challenges him to a race down the hall, the two instantly running.

“ _NO WARPING IN THE HOUSE_!” Ignis shouts overtop Prompto’s cry of “no fair!” as Noctis throws a dagger, teleporting instantly to its location, crystal dust catching in the sunlight.

“Maybe if we get Prompto to eat some veggies it’ll get Noct as excited about them as inviting Prompto to training has,” Gladio smirks, clapping Ignis on his lower back. “Don’t yell yourself hoarse, though…save it for the monster truck derby.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a bit of a time skip into spring to make Noctis’ and Prompto’s level of comfort and attraction to one another a little more realistic. Although only a couple of months have passed, it’s clear that Prompto and Noctis have settled into their friendship very comfortably. While the two are still girl crazy, they do not seem to notice their strange interactions as much as their friends do. Ignis, being something of a once-upon-a-time sex god, slowly tries to acquisition his groove back, while Gladio just floats about and adores his hot messes.
> 
> I’m thinking about how I wanna incorporate Iris and Luna, I feel like the two of them could be fun!
> 
> I’d also like to let everyone know that serenity cat pods are real and to google them.


	8. Second Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats. This fanfiction is halfway as long as Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Whatever. I embrace it at this point. For those of you who’ve been with this since the beginning, you’ll notice I went back and edited the two from being Juniors to Seniors. I did this because the angst train is leaving the station, and it’s definitely at capacity and is expecting no delays.
> 
> Obviously we know from various canon materials that Prompto is very insecure and has anxieties. As much as I try to write him with these character traits intact, I couldn’t help but notice while playing through the game Noctis’ glaringly awkward tics and anxieties himself, and I wanted to explore that a bit. I’m not trying to do it to the point where I make these two into characters that they’re not, but a big theme of the game was Noctis accepting his duty and his life, and I feel like his friends are a big part of that.
> 
> Also I'm sorry if any of you are track people and I'm totally doing track wrong. My bad. 
> 
> Iris and Luna will be making appearances as well, eventually.
> 
> Thanks as always, you guys.

 

_“GO, PROMPTO, GO! CRUSH THEIR ASSES TO THE GROUND!”_

“You know, Gladio, if we’d like to be invited back to his meets, we should probably not encourage him to physically assault other children…”

“Your head’s just not in the game, Iggy --- KNOCK ‘EM DOWN!” Gladio shouts louder, Ignis placing his hands over his ears.

“What game, dude, it’s just people running,” Noctis shoves an entire hot dog in his mouth, Ignis looking at him in utter repulsion.

“If fishing can be considered a sport, one that we are often forced to spectate, then I’d be more than willing to concede that this, _too_ , is a sport – at least there’s something to _witness_ ,” Ignis snaps, clapping and cheering as they start on their third lap.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Prompto may have booted you for athlete of the year award,” Gladio nudges him.

“I don’t see Prompto with medals or certificates,” Noctis adds smugly.

“You mean like the ones you had Drautos print off the computer and replace with your name in photoshop when you were thirteen?” Ignis quips over a sip of coffee he steals from his thermos.

“Exactly, I’ve been a champion for nearly five years, now,” he stretches, rising as he does so.

“If you’re going to get another hot dog I will kick you onto that track and laugh as you get trampled,” Ignis snaps, Noctis sitting down quickly.

“Damn, Iggy, let the kid get a slushie --- I’m gonna get some slushies,” Gladio edges his way past the shins of other families they share the bleachers with, Noctis clapping and waving slightly at Prompto. He just barely smiles at the blonde, who waves back and grins before taking his mark at the line.

“You’d think your voices would be too hoarse for cheering, what with the way the three of you deafened everyone at the monster truck rally,”

“Yeah, Ignis, it was me _screaming_ that did it, and not the dozens of massive, roaring cars smashing each other to bits,” Noctis does not turn to face his advisor’s scowl, his expression a soft smile as he watches his friend sprint with quiet pride. “Speaking of, Cindy ever give you a call back?”

Ignis chokes on his coffee before sputtering and eventually answering. “As much as I would like to blame having to pick up you and Prompto from the security office for why we probably will not be going on a third date, I must unfortunately chalk it up to a difference in personalities,”

Noctis laughs, fist pumping at the cherry-grape swirl, 64 ounce slushie Gladio tosses him. Noctis had hoisted Prompto up on his shoulders for the entirety of the show, blocking Ignis’ view for the two hour duration of the derby. Prompto cheered himself hoarse while Gladio too, was thoroughly entertained, Noctis’ arms still somewhat sore from gripping the thighs of a runner against his shoulders for one hundred and twenty minutes. The real trouble had not begun until the two went to the bathroom without supervision, ‘imitating monster trucks’ ( _“Whatever the hell that even means!”_ Ignis scolded them on the car ride back to the castle) and slamming into each other, knocking over signage onto twelve people, and completely destroying a concession stand. “Sorry, man, it’s not cool to laugh,”

“No, no,” Ignis glares at Gladio, who sips on his blueberry flavored slushie in a purposefully obtuse way that causes his straw to loudly suction the ice. He ignores Gladio, who continues grinning menacingly at Ignis. “I do not get the feeling she was all too impressed with my lack of enthusiasm at loudly revved, broken cars,” Ignis uses his straw to pick at his children’s cup sized raspberry slushie --- light syrup. “Oh, and staring at Prompto’s arse for the better part of two hours!”

“Sounds like a pretty good view to me, one that probably a lot of people in these bleachers would kill for!” Gladio chuckles, Noctis instantly turning red and arming himself with a retort --- until he follows Gladio’s gaze up towards a group of Junior girls on the bleachers. They are enthusiastic and beautiful (Noctis jealously notes, picking out at least three of them he would love to get to know _behind_ the bleachers, were Ignis not around), and excited, each donning a homemade shirt cheering Prompto on.

His jealousy of Prompto quickly morphs into jealousy  _toward_ him, the girls instantly running down from the bleachers. They waste no time in swarming the handsome blonde as Prompto comes in second, panting heavily, hands on his hips---

“You alright, Noct?” Ignis asks, though Noctis is too preoccupied to respond.

“I think he’s a little miffed he got beaten to his best friend’s punch,” Gladio mutters.

“Don’t worry, Noct! I’m sure the prince of Lucis will get his due attention momentarily,”

Noctis swats an annoyed hand at him, his features narrowed in the same emotion.

“Let’s see if we can beat the girls away and get a word in edge wise,” Gladio suggest, Noctis swiping his drink, and the lime one Gladio secured for Prompto. He lingers behind the other two men, sauntering moodily as they approach their flustered friend.

“Oh, there’s Prince Noctis!”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Does he run?”

“Ugh, I wish --- I’d love to see him take his shirt off!”

“Him and Prompto are like, _friends_ I guess…”

“Who’s that guy with the glasses? Is he a teacher?”

“A _sexy_ teacher! _Damn_ I wanna see what’s in _those_ slacks!”

“Forget _him_ , who’s that fine ass _daddy_ with the ponytail?”

“Prompto and Noctis know _college_ boys?”

“There’s nothing more awkward than getting ogled by under aged girls with no social awareness…” Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose, the group of girls giggling and throwing looks back at them as Prompto spots the sullen Noctis behind them both and sprints for him, catching the prince off guard as the force of the hug Prompto tackles him with sends him spinning around twice.

“Thanks for coming, guys…” Prompto addresses them all sheepishly, letting the surprised Noctis go, the prince covered in the runner’s sweat.

“Of course, Prompto, we’re glad we could make it,” Ignis nods, Prompto cheering too when Gladio hands him the 64 ounce lime slushie.

“Forgive his royal moodiness, he’s a little butthurt a group of junior fangirls are faster than him,” Gladio whispers in Prompto’s ear, who laughs, eyes on Noctis, who digs his foot into the ground.

“Congrats on second place, we can have fig and pistachio, sugar free ice cream when we get back to the castle,”

“Way to kill the boner before we even get halfway up there, Ig,” Prompto chuckles, Ignis saluting as he walks across the field. “I’m going to go bring the car around, Gladio, if you could help?” the brunette darts his eyes and crooks his head towards Noctis before looking knowingly at Gladio.

“Yup, catch you losers in the car,” Gladio gives Prompto two firm claps on the back before jogging to meet Ignis, Prompto smiling as he flicks Noctis’ hair.

“Hey, _Highness_ \---!”

“Good job out there today,” Noctis awkwardly blurts, Prompto slipping to embrace Noctis once more.

“You can be such a dweeb sometimes, dude…”

“Look who’s talkin’,” Noctis smiles slightly, though trying to maintain his mood. They slowly let go of one another, Noctis scratching behind his head nervously. He looks back up to meet Prompto's goofy expression. He still pants with his hands on his hips, his entire body flushed. “So, uh…who were the girls?” he attempts to asks casually, Prompto able to detect the strain in his voice immediately as always.

“I, uh…I dunno, I wasn’t expecting any fans today, other than you guys…” he mimics Noctis in his nervousness and throws a thumb over his shoulder.

“They seem really into you…” Noctis bluntly adds through clenched, strained teeth. "You know them or something?"

“What, are you jealous? Dude --- I used to _hate_ your ass growing up because of how popular you are, you’re a _prince_ , imagine how many girls there are in Insomnia who would ---“

“Look, I’m just --- I'm just starting to get sick of everyone just flocking to you!” Noctis awkwardly blurts once more, Prompto blinking rapidly from surprise. “Wait, what?”

“Didn’t you see it today in class?! Everyone’s just…talking to you all of a sudden, like --- everyone wants to be your partner, or they're asking to copy your notes, or to do stuff after school ---”

“And _why_ is this a bad thing again?”

Noctis chokes on his words, stuffing his hands in his uniform pockets. Even Noctis himself cannot deny the question is valid; he still finds himself unable to come up with an explanation that does not stem from the inexplicable sense of jealousy that had governed his emotions as of late. Every classmate who showered Prompto with attempted whispers or shared jokes, every cheering fan, every hand that touched his own --- Noctis would have them all banned from Lucis, were either he or his father a true tyrant.

“Noct, for all the bitching you do about having to be a prince, it’s pretty confusing how you seem _real mad_ about not having the attention for a change---“ Prompto rolls his eyes, though his smile is just as wide as before from the euphoria of his victory.

“I don’t care about them not looking at _me_ , I care about ---!“ he growls before stopping short again, though Prompto knows the prince well enough to decipher precisely what he means with his silence.

“Look, who did I come running towards, Noct?” Prompto asks quietly, folding his arms at Noctis’ silence. Only now does his smile begin to slack.

“I’m not saying you can’t have other friends, Prom ---“ Noctis starts apologetically, but Prompto holds out a shaking hand to silence him.

“As if you can tell me who I can and can’t talk to --- but it doesn’t even matter, because who am I going home with? Who am I spending the whole weekend with? I’m spending tonight _and_ Saturday night with you, Noct!”

Noctis jumps as Prompto smacks his butt, rushing towards Ignis’ signature black car and waving for Noctis to keep up. He had no right to be as nervous as he was, Prompto silently curses, his heart skipping a beat as he sees Noctis runs behind him. For all of his insecurities, anxieties, and inadequacies, Prompto tried his hardest his to curtail them and be the best, most confident friend Noctis deserved. So much so, he shed many pounds and lost the weight all those years ago, even as children, so Noctis would not be embarrassed to be seen with him.

“But uh, either way, uh congrats, though, Prompto,” Noctis reiterates as the two reach the car, his neck burning as he can feel the stares of Prompto’s newly founded fanclub on his back. "You really ran up a storm out there..."

“They’re doin it again…” Gladio mutters from the passenger seat, Ignis tapping an impatient finger on the steering wheel, chin resting in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Having another _moment_ – pay up,”

Ignis turns around, catching a brief glimpse of Prompto and Noctis in an embrace beside the back seat door, their lips moving in dialogue too quiet to hear.

“Curse you, Gladio,” Ignis mumbles, pulling out a five Lucian note and stuffing it into the bodyguard’s open palm.

* * *

  
“Come now, Noct! The flavor of the pistachio is no good if you don’t enjoy the fig bites with it!”

“I’ve said like, a _billion_ times that I don’t like fruit pieces _in_ things,” Noctis mumbles, pulling another piece of fig from between his teeth and placing it on the table top, listening silently to the conversation Gladio has with Prompto. Noctis can feel Prompto’s rapidly shaking leg against his, a habit of Prompto’s that made Noctis want to stuff the blonde’s antsy legs in his father’s leg braces.

“…I place in at least third in the rest of the games of the season, there’s a good chance I might get picked up at Lestallum,” Prompto beams at the thought before slurping up a spoonful of ice cream.

“When do you hear if you get accepted or not?”

“Beginning of the summer, June…”

“Right after school lets out and you boys graduate, right?”

“Do we really have to talk about that stuff right now?” Noctis hisses, Prompto looking at him concernedly. Noctis hated discussions of graduation --- it marked too much responsibility for the prince to bear, both in regards to his kingdom, as well as the potential departure of Prompto to Lestallum, a city over day and a half’s drive away from Insomnia.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…”

“You know, I would be willing to put money on it…” Gladio beams at Ignis. “….that Prompto would prefer to not sulk and mope for the rest of your weekend together,” Gladio warns Noct, eyebrows raised.

“Ugh…” Ignis grumbles.

“I can always go home, Noct, if you need some time alone?”

“No, sorry, it’s fine…” Noctis waves his hand, dragging his spoon through the green bowl of ice cream soup.

“It’s already Friday evening, and probably the last weekend we’ll have for a while without homework,”

All four men turn their heads as pewter doors part, Regis walking solemnly into the dining room.

“Gladio, Ignis, Prompto,” he nods individually, the three addressed bowing low before Noctis’ father. “I see we are celebrating an occasion, if Ignis has brought out his famous Pistachio Blowout…”

“He placed second today at school, he’s on the track team,” Noctis explains, Prompto nodding smally, embarrassed that such an important man takes time to hear about his high school athletics. “I placed in our race today, Your Majesty,”

“Congratulations are definitely in order then, well done, Prompto,”

“Thanks, Your Highness…”

“If I may interrupt the festivities by stealing my son…?”

“Is everything okay, dad?”

“Oh yes, we just need to talk for a moment…”

All three men have different reactions at the King’s words, Gladio with his eyebrows raised, Ignis with his pursed lips, Prompto with his soft nod, his lips rubbing nervously against themselves.

Noctis slowly stands, Ignis grabbing the bowl from his hands that he means to bus.

“Do not keep your father waiting, I’ll handle your dish…” Ignis warns quietly, Noctis sharing a longing, brief look with Prompto as he follows his father down the hall.

“Surely you can guess what this is about…”Regis chuckles, Noctis sighing before shrugging aggravatedly. “Lucky me, I can think of a thousand urgent things that need discussing _right now_ ,”

“I can think of a _million_ ,” Regis utters with a cool sarcasm that his son cannot help but admire. The two walk down a long, marbled hallway of black, white, and grey. Marble columns of the same motif are traced in Gold, heavy stone doors parting before them. Noctis hated his father’s study almost more than the throne room; being brought to either room, ever since childhood, meant grave, or at the very least _unfun_ , tidings.

It was as beautiful a room as terrifying– thick, red, velvet walls, surrounded by vast, regal bookcases whose shelves harbor books as old as the Kingdom of Lucis itself, a whole wall dedicated to ancient, browning world maps, ceilings higher than even the already vast windows that take up the entire left wall.

“Sit, Noctis,”

“Yessir…”

Regis sits back in his chair, unclipping his cloaks and breathing out deeply. Noctis can smell liquor on his breath --- while the King was far from an alcoholic, he knew it to mean his already ailing father was more stressed than usual.

“You've been out with Prompto again…?”

“Yeah, of course,”

“That boy really means the world to you, doesn’t he…?”

Noctis looks up to see a kindness and patience in his eyes that had not translated through the gentle, though firmness that permeates in his voice.

Noctis gulps before nodding slowly. “T-thanks for making time for me to spend with him, dad…”

“Everyone needs a break from their duties, and I can see Prompto is a much needed stress reliever for you, son. But a break from is not the same as completely neglecting…” Regis smiles as Noctis groans knowingly.

“You and I both know you have completely neglected your duties for ah…monster truck rallies and sports games, going out to the movies, shopping, cafes --- all with Prompto, right?” Regis assumes, both patiently and correctly.

“Yeah,”

“And the guest room in your wing has more or less become the boy’s second bedroom, and I assume he will be joining us for all meals through Sunday afternoon?” 

“…Yeah,” Noctis admits shamefully, completely predicted from top to bottom.

“I just want to warn you of something, Noctis,” Regis puts two scotch glasses on the table, filling them up with shots of brandy before pushing one towards his son. “Were this a different time, a different world, and we different people, there would be no need for this discussion,”

Noctis opens his mouth, but Regis stops him as he holds up a single finger, pausing before continuing. “It’s nice to see Prompto gives you that release and is such a loyal friend to you as you are to him. But I fear I may have done you more harm than good. He is a commoner boy, and you are a Caelum, and following your graduation you will have no room for common activities, or _commoners, I'm afraid..._ “

“So you’re saying I’ll never see Prompto again?!” Noctis starts, gripping the still full glass of brandy in his hand.

“I am saying that my desire to see you happy and to see you get that taste of companionship may have set you up for a relationship whose absence will plague you no matter how you try to ween yourself of it…”

“What are you saying, dad?!”

“I am saying to cherish your time with Prompto now, because come June, your paths will separate, and one cannot say when, or even if, they will converge once more. You have a kingdom to run, a crystal, people, and empire to protect, and tradition to uphold --- have you even started on your readings of The Six?”

“…No,”

“How are you supposed to be in touch with the Divine with Lunafreya if you have not done the readings?! Have you given the future of this land and your family _no thought_ , Noctis?!”

All Noctis had given thought to, he realizes as he glares at the floor, is Prompto --- the boy’s blue eyes, the aurora of freckles that speckled his shoulders, cheeks, and nose, his blonde hair, his nervous, soft laughter, his love for photography and espresso, the way he tries to offset his faults by being the better man he wants to be, the feeling of his lithe frame when they embrace, the occasional, accidental brushing of their hands in class---

“Noctis, you fool…” Regis sighs, placing his head in his hands. “Listen…when I was seventeen, there was this beautiful girl and her brother from Galahd…I snuck many a night out of these very walls to meet my friend, and snuck his sister within them --- I was your age, Noctis --- it seems impossible, but you learn to cope with and accept your duty ---“

“If my duty is having Prompto out of my life, then I don’t want it!” Noctis shouts, Regis shaking his head sadly. “I’m afraid that has already been decided for you, son. And it is not my choice, nor my own personal verdict…I am merely the messenger,”

Regis busies himself with the search for a book in his desk as his silent son sits stiffly in a chair across from him, a silent tear rolling down his cheek.

“Why haven’t any of you ever stopped, ever said no to this stupid crystal?!” Noctis spits. Regis softly placing various old, withered volumes of _The Cosmogony_ onto the table before him. “I asked my same father that very question with much less patience than you are doing the courtesy of extending,” Regis chuckles despite his son’s devastation.

“When it comes to running a kingdom, an empire, with a wife, a son…you come to find your own personal crusades pale in comparison to the beacon of fate that outshines your very existence like it was nothing at all…”

“Gee, dad…” Noctis shakes his head sarcastically, Regis tapping a hand on the books.

“As your education draws to a close, your coronation begins. You are to read through the entire Cosmogony and be sure to consult Lunafreya regularly on your readings. You are also to begin giving some thought toward whom you would like to nominate for your own personal Crownsguard…what with your eighteenth birthday approaching sooner rather than later…and before you make an unwise mistake, showing commoners the intricacies of Caelum coronary traditions!” Regis raises his voice along with his son from his chair, the sudden change in volume causing Noctis to stay in place. “Prompto is allowed to know of the contents of the Cosmogony,”

“Yes, father,” Noctis bows, Regis shaking his head and pulling his son into a hug that Noctis reciprocates fondly. “Yes dad…” he corrects, trying his best to offer his father a watery smile before he hoists the books in his still weak hands from the monster truck rally and closing his father’s door with a soft click.

 _“It is not yet too late,”_ Regis muses as he finishes his glass of brandy before pulling out a set of coronary tomes meant to guide the king. _“All loves at seventeen seem so desperate.”_

* * *

 

“Hey,” Prompto beams from the soft, velvet carpet on the floor at the exhausted Noctis, who enters his own bedroom, tossing the ancient books into a careless pile in the corner.

“Umbra stopped by while you were gone,”

“Did he?” Noctis runs his hands through his hair, throwing his uniform blazer into the corner, nearly ripping his tie as he discards that too. Prompto had clearly taken a shower in Noctis’ private bathroom whilst he listened to his father’s counsel. He tosses his belt carelessly over his shoulder, flinging his dress shoes so they flip in an arc toward what was Noctis’ best approximation of his closet.

“I wrote in Luna’s notebook that you were talking to your dad, but I said hi. Luna said hi back, and said that she can’t wait to meet me in person!”

“That’s great, Prom, I know how excited you are about seeing her…” Noctis smiles, walking into his closet and changing from what little remained on his body of his school uniform and into a tight fitting black  t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s something else, to be honest…” Noctis begins, plopping onto his messy, unmade pile of silk blankets and down pillows. “Gods, she’s gorgeous, funny, smart, she may as well be a goddess too, the way she carries herself…” Noctis smiles fondly, jumping as Prompto too, finds his way onto Noctis’ bed, lounging comfortably and stretching his freshly clean legs across his best friend’s body.

“So then, she definitely won’t find my fart or sausage jokes funny,” Prompto utters sadly, to which Noctis laughs heartily for a few seconds before slowly shaking his head no. “When I was fourteen, she must’ve been like, eighteen, I guess…I told her to _pull my finger_. Ignis was so fucking pissed, he didn’t talk to me for days…”

“Oh, that’s Noctis, trying to woo a beautiful Oracle by asking her to pull his finger…”

“What would your gameplan have been at fourteen?” Noctis sneers, his body tingling as Prompto ignores the dozens of down pillows on his bed in favor of his stomach, closing his eyes and finding comfort in the rise and fall of Noctis’ warm body.

“I probably would have just stared at her, to be honest…I’m thinking that’s my gameplan, now, when I meet her in a few days…”

“A few days?!”

“Yeah, she said she would ask her brother for permission to visit for a while, on a diplomatic mission…she also said that she misses you terribly, and hopes that you’ve grown to be as handsome in person as my pictures have made you seem…so you’re welcome…you still up for fishing, tomorrow?”

But Noctis is sound asleep, breathing quietly, his hand absentmindedly curled in Prompto’s slightly damp blonde hair. It doesn’t take much longer for the blonde to follow suit, the two of them so deep in their shared nap that no one takes notice of Carbuncle as he jumps on the bed as well, curling in the crooks of their warm bodies and too, finding a brief respite.

 

* * *

 

“Sheesh…at least something _happens_ in my track meets…” Prompto grumbles, lying flat with his back against the damp boardwalk, his bare feet recoiling slightly every time a cattail brushes in the wind, tickling his soles. Prompto had been warned by Gladio and Ignis that fishing was far from a spectator’s sport and offered to keep him additional company, but the look he’d met in Noctis’ eye implied the prince, too, shared his desire to be alone with one another.

Prompto could neither place nor explain the reasoning behind their recent wish for exclusion, mainly because it had gone widely unsaid --- at least between Noctis and Prompto _(“Let them go,” Gladio had whispered to Ignis, who tried to insist on chauffeuring the two to the lake just outside of Insomnia where the two wanted to fish. “Let them be alone so they can try to work whatever this is out.”)_ He could not miss Noctis’ scoffs and folded arms when Gladio and Ignis had kept Prompto too occupied in long conversations, and Noctis could not misinterpret the way Prompto would lean back in his chair and sadly pretend to scroll through his phone when Noctis shared a laugh too long and too soft with one of the classmates who would wander toward their desk at lunch time, or in between classes.

Prompto was the only one who knew Noctis intimately enough to see that his sudden rise in popularity with their classmates was beginning to overwhelm him, so he was certain to fill their schedule with activities, allowing Noctis to say he was busy with Prompto every time a guy asked him to play soccer, or a girl out to dinner or to Amelia’s.

He knew Noctis appreciated this too, though only in the form of a small “Thanks” he uttered when approached for the tenth time about a movie night, eyes narrowed in a smile Prompto would have labelled _seductive_ were it anyone else…

Prompto’s eyes watch a cluster of algae swell together rhythmically as it rises with each small wave the murky brown lake can lazily muster.

Noctis turns to glare at the blonde, unmistakably furious. He quickly reels in his line, slamming the pole down with a violence that immediately sends Prompto to sit up, scrambling against the slippery wood to find his footing as he chases after the prince, who storms off into the reeds.

“Hey, hey, hey, _Noct_ , I was _kidding_ …” Prompto laughs softly as he catches up to his friend, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to face Noctis toward him. The young man obliges, turning around dramatically, maintaining his cold gaze.

“Well all the fish must be at another part of the lake, so we can go _anyway_! Don’t want you to _die of boredom_!” he pouts before storming off toward the dirt path where he’d left his father’s Regalia parked.

 _“Watch what you say out there, he’s already bad at takin’ jokes at his expense, especially about fishing, and especially from you, I imagine,”_ Gladio had warned, pulling Prompto aside shortly before the two had taken off, whilst Ignis lectured Noctis about the sandwiches he had packed the two young men for lunch. Prompto sighs as the prince shows no sign of stopping his moody tirade. He places his hands in his pocket as he retraces their step to grab the fishing pole Noctis had forgotten in his dramatic anger.

He picks up the long, cumbersome apparatus, struggling to hold it straight for a few seconds before catching his balance. He tosses a look back over his shoulder. Noctis is completely out of sight, thus he attempts to cast, gasping nervously as he nearly tosses the whole pole into the lake ---

He slowly reels, features cocked in confusion as he attempts to wriggle the entire pole to catch the attention of the fish. It does not take long before it becomes obviously clear that fishing was not Prompto’s calling.

“Hey, check me out!” Prompto mumbles to himself, pleased at his fifth cast attempt. The line travels toward the middle of the lake, ripples spreading where the lure nosedived into the water with a light _plunk_.

“So you’re gonna make fun of my hobby and try to _steal_ it too?” Noctis snaps, Prompto turning around to find his friend has returned, arms folded across his chest.

“What, more than one person isn’t allowed to fish in a friend group?” Prompto asks sarcastically, unable to take Noctis’ very humorless, moody attitude with his ridiculous outfit; he dons a black baseball cap, an orange and olive grey puffer vest that is nearly three sizes too big for him, a white tee shirt, and water soaked blue jeans.

 _"You’re going to want to cover up if you’re spending all day outdoors, and, no offense, Prompto, but you look like you sunburn if you leave the refrigerator door open for too long,”_ Ignis had warned as well, Prompto in nothing but track shorts and a tight red tank top, his skin sure enough beginning to tingle from the burn, his red nose and freckled cheeks brown from the nearly six hours the two had spent outside. How ridiculous their argument between a puffer fish and a lobster must have looked. “ _Come on, Noct, you make fun of my track meets all the time! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!”_

“You didn’t hurt my feelings, are you kidding me? I just went to get more fishing line from the car!” Noctis scoffs before snatching the pole from his hand. He tosses his vest to the ground and pulls his shirt over his head, the young man now bare chested in the muggy heat.

 _“More like are you kidding me?!”_ Prompto snaps internally before sighing --- where Noctis had learned to put up with Prompto’s semi-constant need for reassurance, he had learned to let Noctis win if it meant dragging him out of a moody spell.

“How many rounds do you think you have left in you?”

“Uhhh, ten thousand years’ worth, except _crystal years_ , so they go by even slower,”

“Well, I’ll take the Regalia back and see you in ten thousand years, then…”

“Too bad you can’t drive!” Noctis laughs.

“Too bad it’s not my fault I’m not the _Prince of Lucis_ and so that means I get driver’s ed before everyone else!”

“I’d gladly trade a couple extra years before drivers ed for all the prince baggage, though!” Noctis slowly reels, Prompto hypnotized by his friend’s lithe, yet muscular back. “Light bringing, crystal bearing…people can say what they want about fishing, but it’s kinda nice when shit _doesn’t_ happen for a change…”

“That reminds me, what did your dad say yesterday?”

Noctis sighs before casting his line out toward the lake. “Nothin’, he’s just riding my ass about the Coronation Ceremony in August, on my birthday…”

“ _Noctis ‘literally no big deal, I’m becoming a King on my Eighteenth Birthday and My Dad Wants Me To Prepare For It’ Caelum_ ,” Prompto chuckles, beaming at his friend.

“I got a _lot_ of shit to read, shit by boring old dead Kings who wrote before the _wheel_ was invented. Dad’s just like…” But Noctis stops mid sentence, not wanting to burden Prompto with his father’s words about their numbered days with one another as friends, instead of as King and Citizen. “…You know. Gotta read them books erryday…”

“I know, Noct…” Prompto whispers, pulling his camera out of his satchel. “Come take a look at the pictures I took today, unwind a bit…”

Noctis tosses the fishing pole in the air, its outline remaining in the air briefly before it flashes away in crystal dust _(“he must be able to control that, since it didn’t disappear when he threw it down before…”)_ , Noctis smiling as he sits next to Prompto, bringing a thumb to brush some of the crystal off his freckled cheek softly.

“Now you have to admit the summoning things on command thing is pretty worth your royal angst…” Prompto whispers under the touch. The blonde is able to tell there were no more crystals on his skin by the way the sunlight no longer flashes briefly in eyes. He catches a whiff of mingled scents every time Noctis raises his arms, of dirt, dried, salty sweat, and of fishy lake water, Prompto savoring their raw, sensory moment.

“It only works on some stuff, really, and takes a lot of practice…” Noctis replies just as quietly. “You’ve got algae on your cheek…”

“Sure, Noct…” Prompto humors him, tensing slightly as he watches his friend’s ab muscles contract as his breath rattles. Sweat and water droplets run slowly down his collarbone.

"Come on, let me be the needy one for a change…” Prompto interrupts, nervously aware of his gaze lingering a little too long on his friend. He shoves his camera under his friend’s nose, breaking their trance.

“Needy?” Noctis repeats before leaning on his hand to face Prompto’s display screen.

_A picture of a heron on one leg, surrounded by lilypads and rippling water._

_A picture of reeds and cat tails in the corner, contrasted by a deep, blue, cloudless sky that takes up the majority of the picture._

_A picture of a cluster of fish just below the brown water’s surface._

_A picture of Prompto, taken with the tripod, giving a peace sign as he stands upon a large, flat stone._

_A picture of Noctis with his back turned, pole in hand._

_A picture of Noctis and Prompto with their arms around each other standing on the boardwalk._

_A picture of Noctis staring wistfully down at Prompto as he hooks a lure onto the end of Noctis’ line._

“These are gorgeous, Prompto…”

“So all Seniors get a page dedicated to them, and seeing how I’m president of the yearbook, I was gonna sneak us each _two_ ,”

“You should be locked up, you sicko, no criminal will ever go down in Lucian history like you,” Noctis laughs, Prompto snorting. “I really like this one,” he beams at the picture of the two of them arm in arm.

“Yeah…me too,” Noctis grins. “Thanks for coming out with me today…even if I got kinda grumpy before. The only thing better than fishing is fishing with you --- even if you were making fun of me,”

“The only way I _would_ fish is with you, Noct,” Prompto laughs, bringing his camera to his eye and snapping a quick and candid photo of Noctis. “Look at you, you model!”

_A picture of shirtless Noctis smiling, eyes narrowed, the entire photo glowing orange in the setting sun._

“Damn, I’m sexy,” Noctis pretends to pose, handing Prompto his camera back. “I dunno how you’re the only one who manages to not make me look like a dork, royal photographers have been trying for years,” he begins. “I remember one time, my dad was getting our official portrait done, I was like twelve, I guess. Gods, we prepared for months for that stupid picture, we spent forever in makeup and wardrobe, I was trying on suits for weeks…and he kept whacking me on the back of the head in between takes, he thought I was making faces on purpose, but it was just my face!”

Noctis brings a hand in front of his eyes as Prompto’s flash momentarily blinds him. The blonde is winded from laughter as Noctis looks at the photo he managed to catch of him mid sentence; his eyes unevenly half closed, and his lips twisted as they form an awkward syllable.

“Yearbook president! Say hello to your senior portrait, your highness!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Noctis growls, an unmistakable smile on his lips as he grabs Prompto by his hips. He is careful to place his camera on the boardwalk before flinging him into the lake.

“Drowning me doesn’t drown my evidence!” Prompto screams as he surfaces, grabbing Noctis by his ankles and pulling him down with him. Prompto grins as he treads above the lake, Noctis surfacing and spitting water from his mouth. “You needed the bath anyway!” Prompto laughs, holding his hands in front of his face as Noctis pushes a massive waves of water in the blonde’s face, who pounces on Noctis so the two briefly go tumbling under the lake’s surface. Their heads break water moments later, Prompto’s arms locked around Noctis’ neck as they float further into the middle of the lake.

“Gladio gave _you_ swimming lessons, not me,”

“Right, I’ll get you outta here, then,” Noctis allows one arm to snake around Prompto’s waist, Prompto shuddering only partially due to the icy water as his hand travels under his undershirt. His hands curl against Noctis’ slippery chest, the blonde only letting go when Noctis brings them to the boardwalk, Prompto hoisting himself onto its surface, Noctis slamming down next to him, breathing heavily. “You’re heavier than you look --- in a good way!” Noctis adds quickly at Prompto’s scowl. “You’ve got some muscle on you…”

“Pff…just from running,”

“And from the training we do, Prom! You’ve never been fat --- well ---“ Noctis stops short, Prompto snorting as he takes a much needed gulp of water. “But the difference between you when you first started training, and now…it’s pretty crazy,”

“I just have a really good workout partner,” Prompto grabs Noctis’ extended hand as he lifts him up, wincing immediately as he puts pressure on his leg.

“You okay?!”

“Yeah --- I think ---” Prompto hisses, exposing his curled foot from under his thigh, Noctis covering his mouth and gagging as they both jump at the sight of a large, bloody gash that stretches the entire length of Prompto’s foot. “Welp! There’s the problem, I guess!” He exclaims, drops of water mixed with blood splattering rapidly against the wood of the boardwalk.

“Shit, are you okay?!” Noctis asks nervously, unable to look at the wound for more than a few seconds’ time.

“I mean, yeah but _no_?” Prompto half questions, half laughs. “Like, it doesn’t hurt right now, but if I try to walk on it --- yeah yeah yeah, it hurts like fuck ---“

“What happened?!”

“Must’ve stepped on something in the water…” Prompto winces again as Noctis pats his friend’s foot clean with paper towels Ignis had packed them. “You know, I’m really surprised Iggy didn’t send along a first aid kit…”

“Me too…” Noctis mumbles into his chest, eyes fixed determinedly on Prompto. He grabs his discarded white shirt, balling it up and pressing it against his foot.

“It’s gonna get ruined, Noct…”

“It’s fine, I have plenty of white shirts, Prom…” Noctis tries to smile as he ties it tightly to stop the blood flow. “We’ll have to disinfect it back at the castle, there’s nothing left in your foot, right?”

“I didn’t even see what I stepped on,”

“Maybe glass, or a rock --- “

“There goes track for the next couple of weeks,”

“Fuck, Prom, I---I’m sorry, I’m sorry for throwing you in…” Noctis stops his makeshift treatment, looking Prompto sadly in his eyes.  

“It’s not like you threw me onto the glass pile, shit happens… remember when you got a really bad black eye the first time we trained together, when I hit you with the hilt of that halberd?”

“ _Ohhh yeah_ ,” Noctis groans, thankful for Prompto’s attempt at cheering him up, but still crestfallen at the injury that resulted from his actions.

“…Besides, it’s more time we can spend together planning for Spring Festival?” Prompto suggests weakly, Noctis cupping Prompto’s cheek for a few seconds before clapping it a couple times.

“I’ll be your Spring Festival Slave!” Noctis suggests brightly.

 _“Excuse me?!”_ Prompto laughs in spite of himself.

“As payback for _hobbling_ you and ruining the last shot you ever had at Varsity, I’ll be and do whatever you want or need to make the festival happen!”

“Hmmm…good trade! Oh! And you owe me an espresso for every meeting we have up until the Festival!”

“Deal!”

“No, up through Graduation!”

“Okay!”

“No! Until we’re old and _dead_!”

“That might have to come in _monthly_ installments, then…”

“And you have to bow down to my foot at least three times a day and go, ‘I’m sorry, O Prompto Foot!’”

“I’m _so_ not doing that!” Noctis grins. “Fuck me, Ignis is gonna freak, we’ll never be allowed out alone again,” the prince groans in sudden realization.

“Then we don’t have to tell him!” Prompto suggests quickly. “I---I really like our time together, with everyone…” he tries to explain in his haste. “…but I really like being alone with you, and I don’t wanna ruin that,”

“I was thinking about that earlier, I dunno if you noticed…” Noctis replies, growing quieter as he usually did with sensitive subjects around the blonde. He hoists Prompto unexpectedly onto his back, bringing his friend’s arms to lock around his shoulders.

“Free ride, I guess?”

“You can’t walk on that thing, don’t be dumb,” Noctis brings his arms under Prompto’s knees to better support him. He hands the blonde a duffel bag with their clothes, camera, and supplies.  He sets off along the only thin, walkable, gravelly path that snakes its way through the nearly five feet tall, itchy grass.

“Also, of course I noticed, Noct, when I look at you, I could just… _tell_ , I guess…” Prompto’s sentence trails off into the crook of Noctis’ neck, closing his eyes as he grows drowsy in Noctis’ even pacing back to the car. A dark purple filter is cast on the world by the setting sun. Crickets surround them on either side, a buzzing orchestra drawing their evening to a close. The soft crunch of gravel under Noctis’ dark green goulashes compliment the insects' song nicely. Noctis stares straight ahead, thankful the blonde cannot see the embarrassed expression on his face; had he truly been so obvious?

“No kingdom, no homework, no kings, no crystals, no titles, no wars, no duties, no classmates…just _you_ , Noct,”

“What do you mean?” Noctis asks quietly.

“We won’t have these moments forever…when we graduate, well…” Noctis’s breath catches in his throat as Prompto snuggles closer against him. “I wanna be able to tell my grandkids about the time King Noctis and I got into a dumb fight and then he ruined my track career by slicing my foot open,”

The prince can’t help but laugh, readjusting Prompto on his back with a quick hoist of the blonde’s knees with his forearms. _“Would you tell them about the way we parked the car and just started at each other for ten minutes before getting out? Would you tell them about how I held you in my arms while you took pictures? Would you tell them about how you stood there with your arms around my neck as a ‘joke picture’, but stayed that way even after the shutter clicked?”_ Noctis wonders, hypocritically so, for how could Prompto utter such confessions when Noctis could barely utter such ones to himself?

“King Noctis’ll tell your grandkids himself, because Prompto’s gonna have to bring any wife he picks out for kids in the first place for royal approval,” Noctis chuckles.

“What do you think of Octavia? Do you approve of her? Did you _see_ her in her swimsuit last week? I sure as hell would have grandkids with _her_ ass,” Prompto nearly drools, Noctis laughing as Prompto grips him tighter as he motions to drop him. “ _I’ve_ been lookin’ at Octavia and you know that!” Noctis reminds him sternly. “Don’t make me use all the training we’ve taught you against you,”

“Yeah, but you can have any chick in the world, Noct, so you can put the sword down…”

“I guess what I mean is, I cherish all the time we have too, especially because I don’t know what’s ahead…I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid, Prompto,” Noctis takes a hand to open the passenger seat of the Regalia, balancing Prompto on his back and brushing pollen off its windshield.

“Of what?”

_Of his father dying, of becoming King, of having to face the Astrals and their tempest, of having to hand select his Crownsguard and Kingsglaive, of having to court and marry a Queen, of being a King worthy of the Queen he would come to love, of having to produce heirs, of being a father worthy of those heirs, of losing his life prematurely to the crystal’s magic, of being at the popular mercy of millions of countrymen, of having to sacrifice himself to power a Daemon blocking wall, of having to perform bloodrites to continue using his magic, to do the crystal’s bidding, of losing Prompto, the most important thing in his life…_

Noctis merely opts for silence as he leans the passenger seat of the Regalia back, placing Prompto down gently and covering him with a blanket they had used earlier as a surface for their lunch.

“Get some rest, okay? I’m gonna text Ignis that we’re on our way back…you remember that you’re spending the night with me at the castle, right?”

“Roger!” Prompto pipes, eyes closed, smiling.

“And your parents know?”

“Yup! Though I may need Sunday night too, because if you keep sending me back to my parents all crippled, they _are_ eventually gonna put their foot down about us hangin’ out…haha…get it?”

“You are _such_ a nerd!” Noctis laughs, helping Prompto angle his foot on the dashboard, his friend completely unable to even wiggle it without wincing in pain.

“You’ve gotten a lot better at driving, by the way…” Prompto whispers, Noctis smiling as he turns the key in the ignition, letting up the sunroof as they start down the bumpy path to the country road back to Insomnia.

 


	9. Promises of Practicum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to give a shout out to my homie bev-nap, whose promptis fanart (look at it here! http://bev-nap.deviantart.com/art/Highschool-Promptis-Art-Collab-634895679) inspired this entire chapter. it's angsty and complete girly wish fulfillment, this chapter is, but so what, who cares, what's the point of life, why do humans have souls, and what is the meaning of any of this? in other words i'm being self aware, but am unapologetic about what it is i should be aware of.

“What on Earth…?” Ignis whispers to himself, looking up from his smart phone and shifting in the couch he rests upon. Noctis, who carries a sleeping Prompto on his back, freezes shamefully in Ignis’ line of sight in the middle of one of the castle’s many grand living rooms he must rush through before he gets to his own private wing.

“Noctis, what is ---?!“ Ignis questions immediately, Noctis shushing him and jerking his head toward the exhausted young man he carries on his back. Noctis shakes his head before continuing onward toward his wing, Ignis pausing a moment’s time before sending a text to Gladio.

_It’s ten thirty, the two have just gotten in, but I cannot say for certain that Noctis hasn’t gotten Prompto killed._

Noctis opens his heavy, wooden bedroom doors as softly as he can manage, lowering Prompto onto one of his highly comfortable armchairs as he stretches out his strained back muscles. The blonde slumps in his sleep, peaceful and relaxed.

“’S goin’ on in here?” Gladio whispers, pushing open Noctis’ door without warning and causing him to jump. “Everything alright?”

Noctis shakes his head quickly, bending down to Prompto’s feet and untying the blood soaked T-shirt. Gladio hisses, recoiling slightly at the grizzly laceration that slashes diagonally across the entire sole of Prompto’s foot.

“What the hell happened to him?!”

“We were swimming in the lake…we didn’t even --- he didn’t even notice until we surfaced ---“ Noctis stammers. Gladio bends down closer to the wound, frowning in thought. Better him to rush to the call Noctis’ guilty and suspicious behavior signaled than Ignis; not only because Gladio was excellent at administering first aid, but also for his ability to ask questions first and scold later.

“That gash is deep --- can he walk?”

“No, “ Noctis’s breath rattles with sudden nervousness, Gladio using a strong arm to push the prince out of the way as he shines his cellphone’s flashlight at the injury. “He’s gonna need a bath before I can do anything about this, he’s filthy --- go draw him some hot water, I’ll wake him up…” Gladio mumbles, Noctis wasting no time with the instructions as he opens a white door on the left side of his bed. Soft yellow lights turn on automatically as he steps into his own private bathroom.

The entire room is pristine and nearly as large as the bedroom itself. The floor is heated, grey stone, his vanity stretching nearly the length of the entire room. A large window that runs from the floor to the ceiling offers a beautiful view of Insomnia from hundreds of feet below, the entire city outlined in the flickering orange of street lights and cars about on the road. Saturday pulls in much activity despite the late hour of the night. Next to this window sits a pair of ornamental ceramic steps that lead down into the depths of a large, octagonal, spa-like tub. Noctis turns ivory knobs as the tub rushes with moisturizing bubbles and steaming hot water.

He closes his eyes, shuddering as the steam rises. The humidity cracks some of the dried dirt that cakes every inch of his exposed flesh, the idea of a bath sounding ever more brilliant. He wastes no time returning to his friend in need, standing back up and rushing to his bedroom.

“Is this what it feels like to be a prince?” Prompto groggily whispers, rubbing his eyes. “Getting carried everywhere, baths drawn for you, people doting on you…”

“You’re forgetting the excruciating pain as the trade off,” Noctis grins, thanking a maid who silently walks in with a fresh set of fluffed, steamed towels and a robe. He brings Prompto onto his back again, carrying him the short distance into the bathroom. He places the blonde down on the heated floor next to the steps that lead into the bathtub.

“Alright, get undressed, okay? Lemmie know if the water’s too hot, or if you need anything,” Noctis nods as Prompto yawns languidly in response. “Stay, Noct! Just, uh, you know --- turn around,”

“Right,” Noctis agrees sheepishly, turning his back and folding his arms as Prompto discards all articles of his clothing --- including the wristband Noctis had never seen him without, now that he considers it --- lowering himself gingerly into the bathtub and groaning with dull pain as the water irritates his sore foot.

“Better that than pain from infection…”

“I know, but that doesn’t make it suck any less!” Prompto whines, biting down on his lip as he closes his eyes and rests his arms against the floor, trying not to focus on the ruthless stinging that mingles with the warmth of the water and his own drowsiness, making him slightly lightheaded. “If this is what it feels like though, I can say one night is enough for switching places…” Prompto concedes, Noctis smiling as he gathers Prompto’s dirty clothes, tossing them in his own laundry pile. “You’ll even have the royal staff do your laundry!”

“Dad’s either gonna love how good of a job they do, or hate it…” Prompto chuckles at his friend, who rests on the tub’s edge, keeping him company. “He does the laundry, usually…” Prompto mutters. Noctis is certain the blonde is still half asleep.

“I take it back, Noct. Foot pain is pretty worth this kinda comfort; I’m _definitely_ about this life, your private cars, your ballin’ ass bathroom, your big ass bed, shrimps with the dip…”

“Right, let’s see how into it you are after this…” Noctis begins, opening up the first Cosmogony volume he’d brought with him into the bathroom. “Chapter One, Tales of the Creation of Eos, and the Divinity of The Six ---“

“Nah, night, Noct,” Prompto interrupts.

“The Prince of Lucis’s gotta have it all read by the ceremony in August – you sure you wanna trade?”

“Alright, how’s once a week sound?” Prompto bargains drowsily, lathering his blonde hair with the fine, pearl colored shampoo Noctis has available on the side. Noctis smiles as he takes a shower head off the hook, leaning Prompto’s head back and rinsing the soap gently from his hair so he does not have to dunk himself in the water. “Alright, once a week sounds good --- you get my Cosmogony days,” Noctis grabs a fluffy white towel and dries Prompto’s hair vigorously, the blonde’s laughter muffled by the soft fabric.

“Someone feels bad about my foot!”

“Hey, you agreed it wasn’t exactly my fault…”

“I’m just teasin’, Noct…I am ready to get out, though?” he looks up at the prince, who puts the shower head aside.

“Do you need help?” Noctis asks nervously; he had no objection towards seeing Prompto’s naked body if it meant helping his friend in need --- it wasn’t as if he wasn’t familiar with male anatomy as it is.

“Ahh, I think I can manage, thanks though, Noct --- just toss me that other towel,”

Noctis does so, Prompto using the floor that surrounds him to lift himself so only his torso is submerged.

“I can get used to the idea of being taken care of by you, though…”

“Don’t, you’re in good hands, literally; Gladio really has a knack for stitching…” Noctis looks away modestly as Prompto (gingerly) stands, a rush of water slushing in the tub as the blonde dries himself before putting on the dreamily soft robe.

“Here, Prom…” Noctis starts softly. Prompto falls onto his friend’s back as Noctis carries him back into the bedroom, dropping him gently into the armchair.

“You ready?” Gladio asks over a volume of the Cosmogony he picked up off Noctis’ floor while waiting. Noctis' eyes dart quickly across the various surgical tools surrounding his shield.

“Are we gonna need all those?” Prompto asks nervously, his finger pointing between a pair of surgical scissors and a needle and thread.

“If you’re gonna wanna be able to have another meet before you graduate, then definitely,” Gladio holds Prompto’s foot in a vice grip, for good reason. The blonde goes to jerk it away at the stinging feeling of the anti-sceptic searing his exposed flesh.

“You owe me so much coffee, Noct…” Prompto utters breathlessly, Noctis sitting on the arm of the chair and running his fingers through Prompto’s slightly damp hair soothingly.

“It’ll be over before you know it…” Gladio grunts, Prompto hissing in pain as the needle pierces his rough flesh. The surgical thread closes the rift of skin in excruciating, rhythmic dips. Noctis’ stomach tautens as silent tears stream down Prompto’s cheeks, Gladio giving the blonde a firm slap on his thigh atop his robe.

“There you go, blondie --- you’re gonna be Frankenstein’s cousin for a while, but if you’re careful about how you walk on it, you should be fine to run again in a couple of weeks,”

“I am never swimming in any lakes ever again!” Prompto shouts, breath shaking as he exhales in pain.

“How well do you think you can hide that from your parents tomorrow?”

“Pretty well, until they see me crawl up and down the stairs, anyway!”

“I’ll make sure Ignis arranges to pick you up in the mornings as well as in the afternoons,” Noctis nods, the blonde having enjoyed his solitary, peaceful walks to school for photographic purposes, thus the two only rode home together in the afternoon.

“ _So much coffee, Noct_!” Prompto squeaks as Gladio rubs a medicated cream into his foot.

“How’re you planning on getting around?” Gladio wonders, the blonde beaming up at Noctis, who rolls his eyes, folding his arms with a smile.

“I’m gonna have a monkey on my back for a while, I guess…”

“Hell yeah, you are!” Prompto fist pumps the air, Gladio taking a small green box into his hands and standing in the bedroom doorway.

“I’m going to bed, you two buttheads go to bed before I’m sewing up arms and hands, too…”

“I’m gonna take a bath, too, I’m gross,” Noctis catches a whiff of his armpits, fanning the air.

“No way you’re comin’ to bed smellin’ like that!” Prompto beams.

_“Excuse me?”_

“I’m not sharing a bed with you smelling like a ham sandwich!” Prompto explains simply, rustling in his duffle bag for a pair of pajamas --- a sleeveless chocobo tank and a pair of matching chocobo boxers.

“Who said we were sharing my bed?!” Noctis pretends to protest, though he brings Prompto briefly into his arms before setting him atop his king sized, canopied bed.

“I don’t hear any royal objections…” Prompto sticks out his tongue, slipping on his boxers and untying the robe as he slips his tank top over his head.  “Hurry up and take a bath so we can go to bed, there’s no way I’m missing Iggy’s breakfast tomorrow because we slept in,”

“Alright, Your Highness…” Noctis mutters, grabbing a pair of fresh, though unfolded, boxers and a grey undershirt from off the floor and walking into his bathroom. Prompto allows himself to fall backwards into Noctis’ bed, the fresh, cashmere sheets soft against his exfoliated and moisturized (he would have to remember to ask Noctis the name of the soap the royal family used) body. He grins as he grips the pillow close to his body, the comfort of his best friend’s bed almost counteracting the dull, aching twinge that emanates from his foot.

He cannot explain what it is about Noctis’ bed that makes him so restless; he hardly needed to sleep in the bed of other Insomnian citizens to know that the prince was probably lying in more comfort than most.

_“I could miss out on track for the rest of the season if it means sleeping with Noctis more often…”_

He sits up, cheeks red. His hand pushes his hair back in silent disbelief as he contemplates the candid thought that surged through his subconscious seconds ago. _“His bed is really comfortable, that is…”_ he shamefully, mentally corrects, nodding emphatically at the silent rephrasing of his previous, unchecked thought. His nods turn into vigorous shakes as Prompto tries to clear his head of brief, fleeting reminders of the closeness of their bodies in the lake that flash in his mind’s eye.

“How many girls in our class would kill for this?” Prompto whispers, surprised it takes him nearly half a year into his friendship to realize that he shared a bed with the prince of Lucis on a semi regular basis; the prince’s _own_ bed, at that. While he had been more or less given his own bedroom in Noctis’ private wing for as often has he stayed over, he could not help but count at least five times where he had ended up in Noctis’ bed for the duration of the night, Noctis far from protesting his company…

They had not done anything out of the ordinary for two friends sharing a bed; their legs or backs would touch, and one’s head would end up on the other’s stomach, but this was more a result of their equally restless sleeping habits as opposed to stolen, hyper-friendly moments of physical contact.

He sits up slowly as Noctis’ bathroom door shuts, the lights going off in the other room as he emerges in a tight-fitted, dark grey shirt and black boxers, running his hands through his drying hair as he climbs into his own bed, pulling back his covers and sliding underneath them.

 _“How many in the whole kingdom?”_ he wonders further as Noctis snaps his fingers twice, the chandeliers and lamps around the room turning off (Prompto had found the lighting arrangements to be fascinating, the snapping function having worked in the guest room he often occupied, once staying up an extra twenty minutes snapping the lights on and off – Ignis having peeked in his door incredibly amused), the light of the moon shining in brightly. Prompto grabs his camera from the bedside table, bringing the viewer to his eyes.

_A picture of his friend, everything tinted a midnight blue by the moonlight, sitting up and smiling at the blonde._

_A picture of the tall, decorative window, the full moon resting perfectly in its frame as it sits at the top of the sky._

_A selfie of himself in the prince’s bed, Noctis leaning over him to toss some earlier discarded clothes onto the floor in a careless heap, though looking quite seductive due to the timely moment at which Prompto happened to snap the picture._

But before he can bring the display to Noctis’ eyes, he takes the camera from out of Prompto’s grip and places it back down on the bedside table before running his hands over the blonde’s sensitive, slightly sunburnt shoulders.

“Sorry about your foot, Prom --- if I’d known, I wouldn’t have thrown you in…” Noctis apologizes for what must be the thousandth time, whispering his condolences softly into the blonde’s freckled ear.

“You’ve got a whole semester’s worth of coffee and carrying-me-around apologies, Noct…” Prompto whispers back, Noctis’ fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of the blonde’s tank top. Noctis nods, bringing his hands to glide along Prompto’s waist as he lies down, burying his cheek into his pillow and closing his eyes softly.

Prompto follows suit, looking down at the illuminated city outside of his friend’s window, wondering what the rest of the world below would think if they knew that, towering above them, Prompto lies next to their crown prince, Noctis’ slowly relaxing face a mere inches away from his own as they fall asleep together for the second night in a row.

* * *

 

“ _Hello…Noct_?” Prompto whispers, snapping his fingers under the prince’s nose to draw his attention back to himself once more. He jumps, shaking the small, circular table they share just slightly, Noctis wincing as he sees his sudden movement spilled droplets of espresso upon the paper they share.

 _“Yeah, sorry…I’m with you…”_ Noctis blinks rapidly --- unable to shake memories of his very vivid dream from the night before from his head; the dream started with the two of them sleeping peacefully together in Noctis’ bed, as they had done, though the bed had morphed into a sea of murky, light green glass stalagmites that impaled them brutally, towering figures of The Six and Ardyn Izunia, the chancellor he remembered from December, clawing at their lifeless bodies, their sinister laughter growing louder and louder until Noctis shot up in a sudden, uneasy sweat, Prompto next to him completely undisturbed by either his own dreams or Noctis’ fight against his subconscious.

“You sure ‘bout that, bud? If you’re bored, or tired, we could put off planning for another time! We’ve got plenty of weeks ahead of us,” Prompto suggests, but Noctis holds his hand out, shaking it vigorously as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

“No, no no --- it’s not _you_ ,”

“Well, what’s up?”

“Nothin’, just…I’ve been having a lot of nightmares, recently…”

“You were tossing and turning in your sleep all last night, I did notice that…like I said, if you’d rather do this another time ---“ Prompto nods understandingly, though his sense of disappointment betrays him as he goes to collect the various notebooks that scatter around their seats. Prompto had somewhat adjusted to sharing his best friend with the rest of the kingdom and the otherworldly specters that haunted him as a result.

As the end of the school year approached, Prompto noticed Noctis was weighed down more and more by his royal duties. He remembered the discussion they shared whilst fishing last weekend, that the King expected Noctis to transition seamlessly from student to monarch. The preparation that preceded said expectation left the already lazy and highly uncertain young man on edge and self-conscious.

“Are you _kidding_?! I need this, I need _you_ so I don’t lose my mind!” Noctis growls, grabbing Prompto’s wrist lightly and pulling him back towards the table.

“Well…all you’re doing is trading one burden for another, really, planning a festival isn’t easy,” Prompto can’t help but smile.

_“The time is coming close, Noctis, where your civilian friendship will sadly draw to a close, and you must focus on your duties, as much as it pains me to say it,”_

Noctis closes his eyes and fails to shake his father’s earlier words out of his head. _“I want to see you and Prompto have a friendship that defies fate itself, I like the boy, and I am glad I have given you space to pursue his companionship. Yet as a king nearly as foolish as the prince, I was a father first and a ruler second; reality rarely grants our own wishes. He has plans to study, you say, but you cannot go with him to Lestallum. Have you thought about this, Noctis? Your place is here, and you need to be careful you do not lose sight of what it means to be a Caelum,”_

“Hello? Going once, going twice on the idea of a popcorn machine?” Prompto whispers, waving for the prince’s attention once more. “Actually? I think I’m gonna put at least three in the budget…a prince attending the Spring Festival will definitely make this my most successful one yet, and we’re gonna need concessions to accommodate,”

“Popcorn makes people thirsty, so don’t forget to plan for drinks,” Noctis adds, rubbing his head, Prompto taking the tip of a pen he sucks on out of his mouth to point it in Noctis’ direction. “Good thinking! I’ll make sure there are two frozen lemonade stands, and how about just _two_ popcorn stands?”

“Sounds good to me…”

“Noct, I’m having a _really_ hard time believing that you’re enjoying yourself…” Prompto cannot help but frown; Noctis’ eyes waver between the dozens of freckles that spot his best friend’s cheeks like a nervous game of connect the dots, unable to look him in the eyes directly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“What’re your plans for after high school, exactly?” Noctis blurts, Prompto guffawing at his friend’s outburst. “Dude, I can barely plan this festival, even with help, we’ve still got three months before graduation! Lestallum for photography would be my dream, _dude_ , but the program’s so competitive that it’s best not to count my Chocobo eggs before they hatch, you know? Why?”

“Everyone just…nothing, it’s not important…”

“If you say so, Noct…but hey, you’re the one who’s friends with an Oracle, not me! I’m sure Lady Lunafreya could tell you better than I could when we see her later this week!”

Noctis’ stomach tightens at the thought he had not considered; consulting Luna was very much a possibility, yet it seemed so drastic an option. People all over Eos waited weeks for Luna’s healing words and hands, particularly because the Empire kept such a close watch over her actions. Noctis could not bring himself to cut the proverbial, millions of people long line of those in need to merely ask her if he and Prompto would still be friends after _high school_.

“Dad’s just been explaining that when I graduate, I’m gonna have a lot more on my plate, and how, eventually, I’m gonna take over, and how the wall will drain my health, and how to channel my magic…”

“Look, if we’re thirty and I have to build an access ramp onto my house so you can come in, then fine!” Prompto is relieved when Noctis shares his smile, the blonde bringing a hand to slap Noctis’ bicep playfully. “We’ll jump off that bridge when we get there, okay?”

“Easy for you to say, my whole life is the _bridge_ ,” Noctis grins, Amelia winking at them both before setting down another round of drinks. “I told my dad about your Festival, and how you plan it every year, and how important it is to you,”

“Really, what did he say to that?”

“He thought it would be great to help you with it, not just because it lets me spend time with you, but because our classmates can also see me giving back to the community,”

“So, this is just a _PR opportunity_ to you?” Prompto snaps humorlessly, cocking an eyebrow at the prince.

“ _No! No_ , just --- when Gladio and I pitched this that way to him, we got him on board to give me time outta the week to focus on this, and on you,”

“You know what? I know what booth we’re missing…” Prompto grins suddenly, taking the paper back and sketching furiously. “People can come here and pay just five Lucians to _dunk_ the prince! Ten to _pie_ him!”

“I’d like to see you even be able to _lift me up_ to put me in the tank, especially on that foot!”

“Uh, bro? Have you _seen_ these arms?! Working out with Gladio has turned me into a god, dude! Not even The Six got shit on me!” Prompto flexes, winking at himself.

“Careful, I got someone who can call them down and test that, and she’ll be here on Friday, if you’re feeling ballsy enough,” Noctis swells with sudden excitement at the thought of his upcoming dinner date with Luna.

“Ok, ok, ok, let’s get focused, though!” Prompto not so subtlety attempts to change the subject, Noctis leaning back over the paper. “We’ve got a ticket booth here, money collectors there, _maybe_ a ring toss here, if we get permission to use this space from the groundskeeper --- I gotta get the permit on the track for the ‘chocobo races’ --- Aelia planned out that one, you gotta wear a chocobo mask and run like one the whole way around, the winner gets food tickets ---“

But Noctis quickly loses track of the blonde’s racing thoughts, his eyes following his hand as it scribbles boxes wildly across the only blank space left on the paper, his thoughts quickly trailing elsewhere. He unsuccessfully tries to envision himself in Amelia’s Café, the spot where the two of them had first began their friendship, a year from now. He tries to envision himself at their very table with someone else, or merely alone, without _Prompto_ \--- his breath rattles softly from between his slightly parted lips as he imagines a wall and a day’s worth of driving between them, Noctis too busy, too weak as King to visit the blonde in his arid new home, Prompto himself too preoccupied with his photography studies to visit _him_ in Insomnia ---

“I think I’m gonna apply to Lestallum’s photography program too!” Noctis blurts out once more, Prompto pausing his animated run down of the toasted almond tent to humor his clearly shaken friend. “Application deadline’s already passed, man, besides --- I’ve never seen you with a camera in your hands! Competition’s pretty fierce!”

“You really think schools out here are gonna turn down the Prince of Lucis? Or maybe I could study something else --- I think my dad could get behind the idea of a gap year! Or maybe I could do an internship with the government there ---“

“Noct, I know we’re gonna be super busy after September, but I promise we’ll keep in touch! You don’t have to travel hundreds of miles away and take up a path of study you wouldn’t even know what to begin with to keep me in your life!”

Noctis sighs, it being rather clear to Noctis that Prompto did not clearly comprehend the magnitude of expectations that awaited him come his eighteenth birthday. Where the blonde merely understood it to mean nightly face timing before weekend excursions, he saw little need to panic, unlike his friend.

“I don’t wanna leave you anymore than you want me to go away --- in fact, you’d be the only thing in all of Lucis that would stop me from actually going to Lestallum if I actually get accepted,”

“Seriously?” Noctis whispers, his features brightening --- perhaps he could order an official decree that prevented Prompto from leaving the Kingdom, Noctis muses, his shame at his own selfishness settling just as quickly in his stomach ---

“My parents even had to have ‘the talk’ with me the other day --- saying that as much as they love you, and Ignis, and Gladio, they don’t want to see me throw away a once in a lifetime opportunity because of you,”

“Because of me?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Noctis scoffs, offended in spite of himself. “Your mom and dad sure don’t seem to have a problem with me when I drop you off every day!”

“Don’t get mad like that, Noct, they know how hard it’d be for me to be so far away from you, and how that could affect the decision I make about my future…”

“But you don’t need to make any decisions about your future, Prom! Don’t you guys realize who I _am_?! What I can do, who I can _sway_?! I’d make sure you’d never go hungry, or _homeless_! if this is about stability, Prompto, I’d make sure you’d always have what you need, I’ll move you all, rent free, into one of my father’s unused villas, I’ll make it the first thing I do when I turn eighteen---!” Noctis growls, nearby customers even setting down their tea cups to steal glances at the prince and his rising tensions.

“What’re you saying, Noctis?” Prompto whispers quietly, ignoring the stares that subtly observe them both. “I’m just as scared as you are,” Prompto barely utters, shaking his head and staring determinedly at the sketch of his festival. “What if I leave for Lestallum, and Niflheim makes a move, and they block any movement between the two countries?”

“That’s why I’m saying that if you’re going to Lestallum to pursue photography and get a job, that --- you won’t have to worry about it --- I know for a fact there are villas, my dad is giving me one for my twentieth birthday on the outskirts of Lucis, right on the Leiden border! I can convince the best photographers in the world to come to the castle every day, and they’d tutor and teach you, for free!”

“I’d want nothing more than that, Noctis, _I do, and I would…”_ Prompto sighs longingly at the thought of living in one of Noctis’ country villas, his parents well taken care of, their house paid off. He could easily see himself spending all day photographing the various flights of his fancy, the wildlife he had never seen or experienced, for he had only ever been a few miles beyond the border of Insomnia. It was so easy to imagine Noctis strolling through his door in his kingly raiment after an arduous day of hearings, smiling at Prompto as he drew closer, bringing a hand to wrap gently around his neck and bring Prompto into a soft, long ---

 “…But what if you grow too busy for me, even as Prince, let alone as King, to fulfill those kinds of promises? What if I never see _you_ again, because you’re in meetings and ceremonies and negotiations? What if you find your queen, and have _heirs_ , and are too cool to play King’s Knight and lay around scratchin’ your pits with Prompto? You can’t scratch your balls and play games with Prompto if you have a queen, Noct. And haven’t you even stopped to think that while you think I’m leaving _you_ for Lestallum, you might be leaving me?!”

“Prompto ---“

“Yeah, you may be the easier one to find, you’re hard to miss in your giant ass citadel,” Prompto can’t help but chuckle fondly. “…but when it comes to me, there isn’t a picture in the world that can’t wait for you, Noctis. My parents had the talk with me because they know I’d give up my dream for you. That’s always how it’s been. Even before you knew who I was, I was changing my life for you. But there is no giving up your lineage for me; Lucis can’t wait for Prompto, even if you want it to,”

Noctis merely sits and watches as his whipped cream melts into his lukewarm hot chocolate, the fudge swirls on top corroding the sides of the Styrofoam cup into a sickly black ooze.

“…Maybe we should just leave the planning for lunch time tomorrow…” Noctis grunts. “I have to study with Ignis after school tomorrow,”

“You’ll still give me a ride home though, right?”

“Of course, and a ride there,” Noctis sighs, grabbing hold of Prompto's briefcase and the pair of crutches given to him by Citadel staff. Prompto could not help but notice that Noctis still offered himself to help despite them, the blonde hopping on one foot and using Noctis’ shoulder as a balance beam as they halfheartedly wave at Amelia before descending slowly down the stairs, and onto the sidewalk that leads to Prompto’s house. Once outside of the café, Noctis allows Prompto to crawl on his back, the blonde’s foot still at least a week beyond being completely healed, the walk short enough for Noctis to carry his best friend home, but long enough that he would not be able to make the distance hopping along on one foot.

They’re silent all the way to Prompto’s doorstep, Noctis slowly letting Prompto down, an arm wrapped around him to help him maintain his balance as he searches for his key.

“I’ll find a way to not lose you, Prompto,” Noctis starts as the blonde puts his key in the lock, the young man turning around, watching him silently. “I mean it --- if it’s the one thing I do once I become crown prince ---“

“I’m right here, Noct. You know where I live, and I’ll be here, waiting for you,” Prompto interrupts, Noctis nodding before taking a deep breath.

“…I won’t be able to hang out tomorrow, but Friday, you can’t miss dinner with Luna…she’s dying to meet you, almost as much as you are her…” Noctis begins, Prompto smiling understandingly.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you think this is some angsty, girly ass bullshit now, just wait until they have dinner with luna(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). What is slash fanfic if there's no angsty feeling shit though, right?


	10. The Fortune Teller

“The Divine Messengers are scattered all throughout the world in the form of _what_ , Noctis?” Ignis reaches a hand to lightly tap the younger of the two of them out of his stupor, Noctis’ unfocused, glassy eyes staring straight ahead at the red, velvet wall of his father’s dimly light study.

“Uhh…” Noctis begins, his guttural utterance rumbling deep within his throat and showing no sign of conjuring any intelligible thought. Ignis sighs, walking toward a window and pulling a heavy, dark brown curtain as the sun sets, leaving the study dark and tranquil. “Would you be more likely to actually _retain_ the information we cover if I got _Prompto_ to read it out loud to you instead?!” Ignis snaps, the room flooding with warm light as he turns on the various standing lamps scattered throughout the library.

“Leave him outta this, okay?” Noctis mumbles into his arm, his head facing down against the table, resting in the crooks of his elbows. “I really don’t want to think about him right now…”

“Is that the cause of your moping? Have the two of you gotten into an argument?”

“ _No_ ,” Noctis snaps, his words muffled still by his arms.

“You’d do best to push whatever issues the two of you are having with one another out of your mind, what with Luna arriving in the city tomorrow. You’d look foolish before the entire Kingdom if you fail to recite your half of the poem,” Ignis warns.

Regis thought it a good idea to crown the arrival of the beautiful, young Oracle with a public ceremony. The covenant was to take place before the citadel, broadcasted all across the cities of Lucis, her and Noctis swearing allegiance to one another in a near two thousand year old rite that was sure to incite eventual aggression from the Niflheim Empire.

“It is easy to not see the severity of your symbolic actions with Lady Lunafreya when within your father’s walls, what with him keeping the Starscourage at bay from within our borders,” Ignis begins, Noctis checking his phone quickly as the brunette turns his back, noting with disappointment he had not received any notifications from Prompto. “But you must understand that the rest of the world is not so lucky --- when they see the Oracle and Future King conjoined, it will bring the world hope. The people, I imagine, will also be very intrigued to see how the Prince of Lucis has grown, you have not made an official public appearance in nearly nine years, after all,”

“It sure would be nice to keep it that way,” Noctis smiles nervously, lifting his head and scratching behind his neck. He already struggled to read segments of literature out loud in class with a partner, let alone swearing himself in a holy rite to the breathtaking Oracle and Princess of Tenebrae before the entire world.

“They ought to know by now you’re ready and of age,” Ignis pointedly ignores Noctis as he flips disinterestedly through a random volume of the Cosmogony. “Does anyone actually believe this shit?” Noctis sighs, nearly slamming the book shut by its cover.

"Of course, Noctis. Millions of people around the world, and the dozens of your ancestors whose portraits align the walls of the gallery --- your father among them,”

“Why hasn’t he needed to get the blessing, then?”

“What need would there be to call the Astrals so long as Lucis stands?”

“So then what am I doing, keeping Lucis strong, or banishing Darkness?”

“Noct, you’re over thinking it ---“

“No, I think that’s the problem, no one’s thinking about this enough!” Noctis begins aggressively, grabbing a piece of his father’s thick, ornamental stationary and sketching his thoughts. “Okay, so --- thousands of years ago, Astrals created Eos. Then, Astrals created humans? Then, the Astrals sent Messengers to communicate with humans on their behalf. Only certain humans were chosen to actually communicate with these Messengers,”

“Perhaps you’ve been paying more attention than I’ve given you credit for…”

“The first human able to communicate with Messengers was called the Oracle by her contemporaries. The timing of the first Oracle receiving her powers corresponds with crystals appearing to a man of Lucis, who would soon become the first King of Lucis due to the power he commanded as a result of them,”

“That is correct,” Ignis nods, Noctis shaking his head. “This power led to the King, my great, great, great, billion times over _whatever_ , collecting a bunch of powerful crystals from all over and turning Lucis into a great empire. The world thought this was imbalanced, and erupted in war over the crystals. All but one of them was destroyed during this war, and is the same crystal we’ve guarded here, for over two thousand years…”

“Indeed,”

“The crystal also grants us supernatural powers that account for Caelum divinity, as well as the hyper-modernity we enjoy versus nations beyond Lucis…”

“Now I see why you earn such good grades, you really can be a lot more with it than you let on, Noct,”

“So let me get this straight --- some of the Astrals thought our war over the crystals was a form of idol worship, and saw us refusing to worship them as a direct affront to them, so Ifrit cursed us with the Starscourge, which brings about unholy entities and ailments that no human could ever dream of defeating without the aid of the Six, no matter how many crystals or rings we have…but here’s what I don’t get, Ig…why don’t the other five who don’t fucking hate our guts help us? Why do they just talk to _one_ person?!”

“I see where you stopped doing your homework, Noct. The Five cannot undo Ifrit’s damage. Bahamut, the leader of The Six and creator of the world, bestowed upon the King of Lucis the ring of the Lucii, perhaps the only object on earth that contains the power to keep Daemons at bay. The Oracle is the only one who is given the ability to heal those who suffer from Darkness’ maladies,”

“So then, what’s this prophecy, about the one true king?”

“Well, the legend says that when the world is veiled in Darkness, the King Of Light shall come with the power of his ancestors and the crystal, able to permanently undo the damage of Ifrit by expending the mass amount of power he commands, the sheer _devastation_ of using such power doing more to enhance said King’s aging process --- it would cost him his _life_ ,”

“And…”

“So that is your role as future King, Noctis. To support Lady Lunafreya as she heals those who are ill, to continue to uphold your father’s wall against Daemons, whilst helping other lands banish their own, to protect the crystal from those who wish to see it destroyed, and to bear sons or daughters who may too, once join your power in the crystal upon death, so that the One True King may one day usurp the power of his ancestors, and banish Darkness from this world,”

“And when will He come?”

“Who knows, Noct? Maybe it shall be your son, or the son of your son’s son’s son’ son’s son’s son. As long as the Oracle prevents Darkness, and as long as such little power thrives within the crystal, the act of self-sacrifice would prove nothing,”

“It all just makes my head hurt, Ignis. So I protect crystals and kill Daemons and have kids until one day, one of my kids pops out a lamb for slaughter…”

“I know, Noct…”

“And there’s no other way to stop this?” Noctis asks desperately, Ignis sadly shaking his head no. “It’s already nearing nine o’clock, Noct…”

“I haven’t even started on my chemistry,” Noctis smirks sarcastically, tossing the Cosmogony volumes into a heaped stack, dragging his briefcase to his feet and producing a school notebook. “What time is Luna coming tomorrow?”

“Her escort should arrive around nine in the morning --- we have already phoned the school up to explain the incredibly special circumstances that will prevent your attendance tomorrow,”

“And the ceremony?”

“Hoping to start by noon and end by four, your feast to begin at six,”

“And Prompto’s still invited, right? Along with his parents?”

“Naturally --- I’ll be picking them up at three thirty, so as to avoid the assured block in traffic the ceremony ending shall cause,”

“Well, if I’m not going to school tomorrow, I guess I can save the homework ‘til Sunday night…” he chuckles, Ignis breathing on the lenses of his glasses, rubbing them gently with the corner of his dark green dress shirt.

“Best to get it out of the way, or perhaps push the homework until Saturday, you’ll be too exhausted on Sunday to want to do it then…Noct?” Ignis calls as the young man sniffs, sighing a heavy sigh as he wipes the tears that begin to flow from his eyes.

 _“…But there is no giving up your lineage for me; Lucis can’t wait for Prompto, even if you want it to…”_ the memory of his best friend from yesterday swirls in his head, the timbre of their biting words causing his already aching head to throb harder at the temples. “I don’t want to lose him, Ignis,” is all Noctis can force himself to utter, Ignis puzzled as he attempts to decipher the black haired prince’s words. “Your father has many years yet, Noctis,” he mumbles understandingly, Noctis shaking his head in disbelief; while his father was not who he meant specifically, losing him, too, was only an additional stab to his emotional wellbeing. “I just can’t keep any of the people that I cherish, can I?”

“Such is the fate of the King of Lucis, I’m afraid,” Ignis rubs Noctis’ back soothingly, the lithe young man standing to give Ignis a tight embrace, staining his shoulder lightly with tears.

“I’m gonna go to bed, Iggy, I don’t wanna look like shit for Luna tomorrow,”

“Of course --- I shall wake you up at six am, take Prompto to school by 6:45, then be back to prepare you for Luna’s arrival and the ceremony,”

“You’re the best, Ignis --- I’d throw the stupid crystal and the ring into a million volcanoes before I let it take you _too_ ,” Noctis grins through a watery laugh.

“The highest accolades you could ever bestow me with, your Highness,” Ignis smiles back, giving the young man’s back another caring rub as Noctis closes the study door behind him.

* * *

 

“Why are you doing this to me, Noct?” Prompto begs, his two hands gripping onto Noctis’ single one that clenches tightly around his throat. He turns his head to survey the limp, lifeless body of Regis beside him, stretching a hand out in the darkness of Noctis’ bedroom to attempt to slip the ring off his cold finger --- Prompto cries out in unbearable pain as Noctis impossibly impales Prompto’s outstretched hand into Noctis’ stone floor with one of his ceremonial daggers.

He whimpers as the hand clasped around his throat releases, Prompto using his free arm in an attempt to block the second dagger as Noctis brings it down to slash his face and chest, the blonde shooting up quickly before the blow strikes.

He pants heavily, sitting up with breathless alertness. He could not say why his nightmares of late consisted on knives seeking to slash his flesh, merely that he wished desperately they would cease. His own bed is so much smaller, stiffer, and plainer than Noctis’, his heart rate beginning to settle as he catches sight of a cyan, bushy tail as it jumps down from his bed.

“Carbuncle…” he whispers, immediately scrambling for his phone. He recoils slightly as his bright lock screen illuminates his face, still disturbed by the corrupted shadow of his best friend that haunted his dream, for the image is a picture of Prompto in Noctis’ arms bridal style as the prince had picked him up excitedly when the two received the news he made the track team.

He swallows before he puts in his passcode (“chcbo”), opening up the text conversation he shares with Noctis, the two last having communicated nearly three days before. Their conversation at the café had brought a somewhat moody rift between them, the two having opted to not speak, even during school. Although they continued to sit next to each other, their thighs resting against one another’s in their closeness, they had made very blatant and specific points to engage everyone _but_ the other in vibrant conversations.

Noctis stood, for the first time all year, surrounded by a circle of admirers as Maximus usually had been (something he nervously noted Maximus paid great attention to, clearly infuriated), the goofy laugh of Prompto’s Noctis had grown to adore ringing in his ears as Prompto, in his own corner, managed to somewhat successfully flirt with Octavia.

_I had a really bad dream just now. Third one in a week. Another dream involving knives. Pretty sure I saw Carbuncle. I can’t get back to sleep._

His hands shake as he hits send, the clock on his phone showing 4:16 --- still too early to get ready for school. He closes his eyes softly, hurt as the prince who nearly responded immediately to the blonde’s texts goes nearly four minutes without even leaving him on _read_.

“He must be asleep…” he whispers, though his heart beats quickly as his phone vibrates twice, a chat bubble from Noctis popping up right away.

_Calm down, Prom. Getting dressed. On my way over now._

Prompto had grown to hate messages with proper punctuation from Noctis, for this meant the prince was in a less than playful or pleasant mood.

_You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, Noct. Don’t walk all the way to my house in the dark._

_See you in fifteen minutes, Prom._ Is all Prompto receives in response, almost immediately.

Prompto puts his phone down quickly, sliding on a pair of long pajama pants and gingerly walking down the stairs, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on his foot as he quietly sneaks into the living room, sitting backwards on the couch and peering nervously through his curtains, waiting to see Noctis’s frame walking down the street.

Prompto’s mother hung their outfits for the upcoming dinner from the ceiling fan to prevent wrinkles, his mother planning to don a shimmery blue evening gown with capped sleeves and white gloves, Prompto and his father very flattering, modern navy and grey suits, respectively.

Prompto nearly trips across the glass coffee table as he sees Noctis approaching, hopping to open his front door as quietly as he can manage. Before he can say anything, Noctis, who is warm and sweaty from his hastened fifteen minute walk that should normally take around twenty or thirty, instantly brings Prompto tightly into his arms, the two locked in a hug for seconds before he guides Prompto onto the sidewalk, the blonde checking for his key and cellphone before he closes and locks his front door. His fears of a bloodthirsty Noctis coming to make his dream a macabre reality immediately dissipate as he feels the warm affection of his friend in the chilly morning.

“Is it okay if we never go so long without talking again?” Prompto asks softly as Noctis swings him upon his back, setting toward a small, grassy park a few hundred feet away. “What, two days?” Noctis scoffs, Prompto’s warm laughter catching in the crook of Noctis’ neck. “Says the one who came running to me,”

He places Prompto down on the warm grass as they reach the park, trees obscuring their presence should anyone choose to look out the window and across the street at the park at such an early hour.

“I’m starting to get really worried about these nightmares you’re having, Prompto, as if we don’t have enough to worry about…”

“I know, right?” Prompto attempts to laugh back. “Life was so much easier when it was just about grades, but now I have scary, supernatural, premonitiony dreams with Astrals on my bed…thanks for coming out, Noct…I just…I needed to see you, after that dream,”

“’Course, Prompto --- what was your dream about exactly?”

“Honestly?! _You_ …you were… _off_ though, very off. You’d killed your father, and you killed me, and you had a hatred in your eyes, and I could tell, when I looked in them, your soul wasn’t there, but I woke up before your knife slashed my chest---“

“Prompto…” Noctis begins with aggressive desperation, his teeth clenched as he growls in quiet panic. “I --- I need you to know, _now_ , that I would _never_ \---“

“I know, but, it was _still_ pretty scary, dude…” Prompto assures Noctis by placing a gentle hand on his best friend's shoulder, the tension in Noctis' body easing only slightly at the gesture.

“Why do you think you keep having the same nightmares? You don’t think it’s…something more than that, do you?”

“Dunno, Noct, all I know is that nothing’s been the same since Umbra came to my room that night…” he smiles, Noctis wrapping his arms around his knees. “You didn’t have to come running, though, maybe I’m just overthinking it…”

“I’m obligated to see to the safety and wellbeing to the people of Lucis, just that your safety and wellbeing comes first…”

“You’re really something else, Noct…” Prompto sighs, staring straight up at the stars above as they filter into a faint twinge of pink as the sun rises on the edge of the horizon.

“You know, I spent the majority of my life neglected, unwanted, and unnoticed. I took pictures as a way of proving to myself I truly was a part of this world, trying to find beauty in other things that seemed to go unnoticed too, and that it wasn’t all just some cosmic idea of a practical joke. Now, I have the greatest parents, and the greatest friends anyone could ever ask for…” Prompto slowly brings his camera to his eye (the apparatus must have been another limb, as far as Prompto was concerned, Noctis notes), capturing a poignant photo of the Milky Way overhead as it spirals into the bright pink eternity of the sun that now begins to rise with more conviction than before.

“I think of you as a lot more than just a friend, Prompto…” Noctis begins, Prompto instantly lowering his camera and leaning closer to the prince, his lips centimeters away from Noctis’…

“Really?” he whispers, lowering his gaze, Noctis bringing his hand to rest on Prompto’s hip.

“You’re my brother,” Noctis whispers affectionately, the blonde slowly pulling back and nodding. “And you’re mine, Noctis,” Prompto smiles, meaning his words, although he sits up and observes the early morning sky in silence. He quietly fights back tears of disappointment, the blonde chalking them up to being an excess of emotion regarding the previous two days and the dream.

“I’m sorry for --- you know, bein’ kinda weird with you the last couple of days,” Noctis awkwardly apologizes, Prompto taking a few seconds to allow the stinging in his eyes to cease before responding. “I know you’re goin’ through a lot right now, so I’m trying not to take it personally,”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give me an excuse to keep hurting the ones who matter most,”

“You didn’t hurt me, Noctis…I was kinda weird, too, to be honest! Although, I _do_ get the feeling Octavia really does want tickets to my gun show…and I don’t mean the ones Gladio’s been teachin’ me to use!”

“Well, you already got my royal approval with _her_ fine ass,” Noctis sighs, Prompto sharing his smile before he can’t help but succumb to Noctis’ contagious laughter. “I dunno, Luna’s coming in a few hours, and I really cannot wait to see what _she’s_ all about…”

“Oh yeah, uh…” Noctis begins, realizing he had not told Prompto about the ceremony in their awkward, two day silence. “So, my dad’s like, having me and Luna kinda do a rite at noon…”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, we’re gonna vow to banish Darkness or restore Light…one of those _specifically_ …recite some poem…oh man, Ignis is gonna kill me, I really do have like, only half an idea what the _fuck’s_ goin’ on…”

“I _kinda_ stopped talking to you for two days so you could _study_ , bro, looks like I ghosted your lazy ass for nothing…?”

“No, I swear I had it all memorized! Just --- to be fair, my dad kinda pulled this outta his ass on Tuesday,”

“Well, if it’s at noon, I can’t see your super awesome pixie circle of blood covens ‘cause I’ll be in _gym_. My best friend’s making virgin blood offers and I don’t even get to see it!” Prompto frowns, Noctis suddenly brimming with excited, positive energy.

“I’d really love it if you could take pictures!”

“I’m flattered, Noct, but you don’t have to pretend like you don’t have royal photographers on hand for that!”

“Okay, but I don’t want their pictures, I want _your_ pictures. I’m not just tryin’ to toot your horn, Prom, but you’ve got a way with a camera no one else I’ve ever met has,”

“ _Well_ …” Prompto scratches behind his neck, grinning with pride. “I guess I totes owe you a skip day, since you skipped for _me_ that one time, and being able to photograph my best friend’s _totally awesome, super_ metal death pact would kinda be the bee’s knees!”

“Cool! Iggy should be comin’ to your house to pick you up and take you to school in about twenty minutes, we’ll wait for him so I don’t have to carry you all the way back to the castle,”

“Gotta love that Iggy, man, Gladio saves my foot and Ignis helps me stay off it --- meanwhile a certain Noctis ---“

“Don’t start or I’ll go right to your house and tell your mom you’re gonna skip!” Noctis jokes, standing up and brushing dirt and grass off his casually thrown on lounge clothes, Prompto doing the same with his pajama pants.

“I think she’ll understand when she’s able to tell all her friends about how he got backstage access passes to the conjoining of, I dunno, his best friend, _Prince Noctis, and the Oracle_!” Prompto trumpets joyfully as Noctis brings his arms under his knees and carries him down the street.

“I mean, I dunno, you’ll also make it all so much less awful. I like Luna and all, I like her a lot, but she’s so good at this tradition and _fate_ stuff. I’d much rather just be playing video games with you, to be honest. The dinner thing’s cool _too_ , I guess, but…”

“You’re literally the _worst_ prince Lucis has ever had…” Prompto whispers with such affection that Noctis shudders a little, wishing he could caress the hands that curl gently against his collarbone, exposed by his low cut undershirt. _‘That is, after all, a common urge resisted by brothers,’_ Noctis’ subconscious scolds him, but the black haired young man shakes his head, placing Prompto in the back seat of Ignis’ car as the bespectacled man pulls up to the curb quietly.

* * *

 

“You better thank the folks down in laundry for working miracles, considering you had this suit crumpled in a heap on your closet floor for nearly eight months and there’s not a single wrinkle in it…” Gladio tugs at Noctis’ black and white pinstripe tie, aligning it so it falls perfectly flat and center in the middle of his chest. His plain black dresshirt is covered by his subtle pinstripe jacket, adorned with six silver buttons, tight against his frame.

Noctis cannot reply due to nerves, fixing his hair carefully in his floor length mirror, Prompto showering in his private bathroom and thus taking up his larger vanity.

“Look at you, you _stud_ \--- You’re gonna knock Luna off her feet! You might wanna make sure Prompto’s in the guest room, tonight,” Gladio winks, Noctis glowing bright red and waving his broad shouldered friend away abashedly.

“Nah, she’s not like that,” Noctis corrects quickly, though the two turn around as Noctis’ bathroom door opens, steam billowing out as Prompto walks out delicately, the young man in a well-fitted, navy suit, the clothes nearly painted onto his slender frame.

“Slay ‘em, Prompto!” Gladio woots, the blonde blowing a casual raspberry, though flushing slightly at the compliment. Noctis’s eyes linger on the incredibly charming look that matches his friend well, his lips slightly parted in silent admiration.

“You look great yourself, Gladio!” Prompto beams, Gladio’s long brown hair washed and pulled back into a ponytail. His own suit is black and, while perfectly fitted for a royal affair, does little to obscure his dreamy, muscular build. “Damn right, I do!” he extends an arm to help Prompto catch his balance.

“I wrapped my foot up with some bandages, so I can walk, just not very fast,”

“I’m sure you’ll be around Noct all day, so he can give you a hand if you need it,” Gladio volunteers the prince, who nods, saying nothing as he styles his hair once more.

“If only you were this enthusiastic and ready to go on school days…” Ignis sticks his head in, his tall frame bedecked in a form-fitting, blood red satin dress shirt, his suit jacket tossed over his shoulder.

“Iggy wears dress shirts every day, so he always looks this good!” Prompto laughs, Ignis silently pretending to strike a pose for a moment before tapping his white gloves against his watch.

“It’s 8:45, Noct! Luna shall be here at any moment!”

“It’ll be fine, Noct! Just remember, no fart jokes, and don’t barf from nerves!” Prompto claps his hands on the slightly dazed prince’s shoulder, who can’t help but smile at his friend’s excitement over finally meeting the Oracle.

“Wow, check out this room of babes!” a familiar voice giggles in the door way, a girl of about fourteen with a springy head of short, brown hair and wide brown eyes wiggling her eyebrows mockingly.

“Iris sure does know style when she sees it!” Prompto gives the girl a brief hug, Iris laughing as he lifts her off the ground playfully. “Careful with Noct, though, he might barf if you squeeze him too hard,” Gladio sneers jokingly, Iris arm in arm with Ignis, who ruffles her hair before walking to Noctis’ mirror, spraying himself casually with cologne.

“Toss it my way, Iggy!” Prompto catches the glass bottle with open palms, dousing himself in the aftershave.

“Uh, it’s supposed to be subtle, Prompto…” Ignis raises a single eyebrow as the blonde passes the cologne to Noctis, who sprays twice as much as Prompto under his armpits.

“And it’s going to be desperately obvious we all got ready together, what with us all smelling the same…”

“Hey, Iris…” Noctis mumbles nervously, Gladio’s little sister dressed in an elegant yet youthful ankle length red dress, her shoulders and arms covered by a maroon cardigan. Her face is lightly made up with tasteful, natural hints of makeup, her own flowery perfume much more subtle than that of the boys.

“You smell really good,” he sputters nervously, smiling softly and rubbing the girl’s back as she slams into his arms. “Don’t listen to grumpy Ignis, I think you smell _perfect_! Lady Lunafreya would be dumb to complain…” she sighs longingly as she and Noctis share another gaze, falling weightlessly into Noctis’ armchair.

“She’d be a fine, rational, mature woman in deserving of so much more, you mean,” Ignis corrects, Noctis scowling and sticking his tongue out silently at his advisor. “Alright, Noct and I must depart, we are to meet Luna in the foyer, after all,”

“Is it okay if I see Prom out in the hallway before we set out, Iggy?” Noctis asks, Prompto taken aback as Noctis’ gaze moves onto him as Ignis nods compliantly. “Sure, Noct, what’s up?”

Prompto closes Noctis’ bedroom door behind them as they step out into the hall, Noctis staring at his feet with his hands on his hips. “Do you know how long it’s been since I last talked to a girl?!”

“Uh…twenty-fiveish seconds ago?” Prompto nearly asks, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to point to where Iris stands behind the wall.

“No, like --- a _real_ girl,”

“I think Iris looks lovely, you can tell she’s tried really hard, and it’s paid off! She’s a sweetheart,”

“Sure, but she’s _Gladio’s little sister_ , and if she were anything other than that to me I’d get my ass kicked!”

“Come on, Noct, you really are killin’ it in your suit, and even if you weren’t, you’re not strutting on a runway, you’re doing royalty shit! You’re the prince, Noct!” Prompto punches his arm, Noctis nodding and smiling with new found confidence. Prompto wonders how such a breathtakingly handsome prince could be riddled with such anxiety, whilst he stood across from the young man as a heavily freckled _ex-fat kid_ with the low end department store suit his mother budgeted for endless months to finally purchase. He must realize his folly, for Noctis gives Prompto a quick, tight squeeze before saluting him, heading toward the foyer as Ignis peeks his head through Noctis’ doorframe.

“Have you two got your moment out the way so I may accompany him?”

“He’s all yours, Iggy…” Prompto nods, the two switching places as he jogs to catch up with Noctis. _“Moment?”_ Prompto mumbles quietly to himself.

“Alright, Noct. You remember your half of the poem, right?”

“Yeah, of _course_ ,” Noctis clenches his teeth and raises his eyebrows at Ignis’ back. “I can’t believe I’m seeing her for the first time in nearly a year,”

“Time grows less and less expendable when you’re under the constant watch of an Empire that would see to your ruin if they could!” Ignis explains in mock casualty. “Stand _here_ ,” Ignis whispers, dragging Noctis to stand in between Regis and Cor Leonis, a Marshall of his father’s Crownsguard whom Noctis rarely had the opportunity to see. He waves at the stoic man who too, stands in a tasteful suit, Cor nodding at the prince as he continues to stand in silence.

“Perhaps he’ll be up for more chit chat when we’re not expecting the arrival of Luna,” Ignis mutters into Noctis’ ear before standing straight once more. Noctis’ clasped hands twitch involuntarily as two ushers pull back a set of heavy, stone doors, a tall blonde woman no older than twenty walking through them, flanked by members of the Kingsglaive on either side. Her long, blonde hair is freed from her usual braided ponytail, instead flowing weightlessly in a spiral down her right shoulder. Her silk, blue and white ascot rests against her unblemished neck, her white dress covered by a beige, light, spring trenchcoat.

She bows low to Regis, Noctis barely able to stop his jaw from dropping; she is simply stunning, Noctis suddenly clenching his arms tighter against his ribcage, certain the wetness of the cologne still stains his armpits. Clearly Luna admires the prince, for her eyes glitter with admiration of her own as she bows low before him, too, Noctis instantly taking Luna’s gloveless hand and kissing with with a smoothness even Ignis mentally applauds.

“How wonderful it is to see you all again,” she beams, her voice airy, soft, and gentle.

“And we you, Lady Lunafreya,” Regis steps forward before kissing her hand as well.

“We shall see her dogs to the royal kennels, your Majesty,” a couple of Kingsglaive members bow before departing from the foyer.

“Noctis, how you’ve grown in merely a year,”

“A-and you, Luna…” Noctis stammers quietly, never one who feigned the grace of royal speech very well.

“How lovely it is, too, to be back within Lucian borders…” she closes her eyes solemnly before Cor and Ignis step forward to greet the Oracle as well. Noctis throws a quick look over his shoulder at the sound of a quickly stifled, high pitched yelp, catching a very brief glimpse of blonde as Gladio throws a hand over Prompto’s mouth, who lurks wide-eyed around the corner.

He gives them a furrowed grin, darting his eyes at Luna and knicking his head at them, the two hiding closer against the wall.

“I take it your journey went without cause for concern?” Cor’s deep voice asks evenly, Luna nodding.

“That did not make the journey any less tiresome, for we rested on the Leiden Lucian border, due to Daemon activity,”

“The Hunter Outposts of the outskirts are no place for a Princess or an Oracle --- you have my deepest regrets that I did not send an escort to see you and your party safely to the castle, no matter the hour,” Regis offers humbly, Ignis subtly nudging Noctis in the ribs, causing the prince to wince.

 _“That ought to’ve been your line…”_ Ignis growls, Noctis scrunching up his features and shrugging in perplexity at Ignis’ criticism.

“Please, Your Majesty, I do not mention this to complain, merely to be honest,” Luna replies in her own humility. “Although my own accompanying party thanks you graciously for your offer to stay at the castle, they have instead opted for a place within the city, so as to remain anonymous,”

“For as long as you are in Lucis, you are welcome to stay within our walls,” Regis generously extends. Noctis rolls his eyes as Ignis nudges him once more, straightening nervously as Luna turns her gaze to him. “It will be wonderful to catch up with you,”

“Yeah,” Noctis wraps his arms around his waist, preemptively blocking Ignis’ sharp elbow. He could not wait for the formalities to drop; Luna was much more of an interesting woman than formality dictated.

“We shall leave you to it, your Ladyship; please see to it that Noctis returns to this foyer at eleven…” Ignis nods, Noctis grinding his teeth at his underhanded implication of his irresponsibility --- not that he could particularly blame him.

The others bow low, finishing their pompous greetings, leaving the two alone once more.

Prompto watches the two in silence, his glassy eyes fluttering between them as Noctis immediately slouches into a level of casualty thought was only reserved for himself. _“I suppose he has known her longer than me…and she is the only one who truly understands his burden…”_ Prompto rationalizes, closing his eyes sadly as Luna lets out a dainty, shy laugh that could only mean she found herself charmed by the prince. Gladio’s shoulders fall as he exhales slowly at the sight of the crestfallen blonde, the brunette going to place a hand on his bicep.

“Let’s get you ready, Luna will definitely want to meet you with how much Noctis has told her about you, and we won’t wanna look like we’ve been creepin’ like we have been…” he whispers. “Right…” is all Prompto can muster as he turns back to steal one last glance at the two, Luna’s hand in Noctis’ as the two walk through an exposed wall and onto citadel gardens, completely lost in hushed conversation.

“At least you didn’t talk out of turn this time!” Luna laughs, the two of them walking slowly, side by side, along the perfectly manicured path that leads them through a garden of blooming flowers.

“I’ve never been good at that sort of thing and you know that,” Noctis grins, hands in his trouser pockets.

“I imagine it must be stressful to code switch that way, you and your family and staff are friends before ceremonial set pieces. I have never known that luxury, having been under the rather careful watch of the Empire since the loss of Mother and Father…” Luna trails sadly.

“So then, what is the situation there?”

“Well, I have my suspicions about Ravus. He claims to merely be so friendly as a negotiator between ourselves, as the last of the Royal family of Tenebrae, and the Empire, but there are days when I can scarcely tell to whom he considers himself loyal,” she looks up at the sky, stopping in her tracks. “Though the Empire know their threats and attempts to control my actions as Oracle do not cause me to falter in the slightest --- I will stand my ground, even if it should mean my ruin,” she nods, Noctis suddenly feeling an immense measure of guilt over his rejection of his own duties, those he had been groomed for since childhood, surrounded by loving, caring, supportive friends and family.

Where Luna as an Oracle and Princess had only a conspicuously vengeful brother as her rock to shield her from an Empire who seemed to deem control over the Oracle a powerful bargaining chip, Noctis had walls, Glaives, guards, and citadels to don as his personal armor. Where Luna sat alone in Tenebrae, careful not to overstep diplomatic boundaries whilst still having to fulfil her role, Noctis was fishing and planning Festivals with his best friend, irritated whenever his minders entered his room without knocking.

“Please do not look so downtrodden, Noctis, I take my experiences as pieces of myself that cannot be soldered off even if I wanted them so. I do not begrudge you your comfort; in fact, I’ve come to feel that everything is as it should be, for the good of the world. Should my solitary suffering mean that millions know peace through our joined actions, I shall consider it an easy trade,”

 _“Does she always have to be self-righteous and duty bound?! Does she think I don’t suffer as well?”_ Noctis wonders internally with a slight venom, though his aggressive thoughts dissipate as she brings her hands to his chest. “But you are still slightly young,”

 _“And you’re not much older…”_ Noctis muses.

“And the burden of the Ring will see to it that our suffering is equal, our difference in years mattering little, when we are in our tombs,” she sighs sadly.

“I know, right? Can you believe my father is not even fifty?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore, Noctis…this world and its Gods are so cruel that I shamefully find myself wanting to believe in nothing,”

“Well, I was talking with Ignis. I’m gonna find a way to make this right, without any _prophecies_ , or _suffering_ ,”

“And I shall be there to aid you every step of the way!” Luna beams, her heart fluttering as her eyes meet those of the prince, who was truly blossoming into a _very_ handsome man. “Time really is quite kind to you, Noctis. I see your friend, Prompto the Photographer, really has a knack for capturing your good looks,”

Noctis can barely reset his thought process after receiving such a compliment from the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“H-he’s really talented. He says he can’t believe he’s best friends with a prince, but I can’t believe someone so wonderful is friends with _me_. He’s funny, kind, passionate, he has a drive for life you just don’t see in Royal circles. He has little, and knows way less about how generous life can be to some of us, but it’s almost like his own lack of nurturing’s made him into the nurturer he never had growing up,” Noctis admits, Luna grinning so girlishly, Noctis smiling at the peek into Luna’s deeply buried youthfulness that has been suppressed within her for so long.

“Had I known the visit from Umbra would actually _work_ , Noctis, I would have attempted to bring about world peace with him and Pryna years ago…”

“Work? What do you mean?” Noctis starts interestedly. “Prom just said you sent him a message saying that you were thankful that he stepped in that one day I got into an argument with our classmate,”

“Did he now?” she asks slowly, Noctis nodding. “Well, he’s right, I did thank him…where is he? And Gladiolus? I heard they, too, would be joining us?” Luna quickly changes the subject. _“Clever save, Prompto…”_ she silently admires the blonde.

“Off trying to coach Prompto how to act around real royalty, he doesn’t get a lot of practice with us…”

“He accepts you for who you are, then?”

“Yeah, he really does, Luna…”

“You’re very lucky to have a friend like Prompto, and he is very lucky to have you,” Luna’s words bring a sudden, excited memory for the forefront of Noctis’ conscience.

“Say, uh, Luna…how good’re you at predicting the future?” Noctis asks, and Luna can’t help but laugh at the sheer desperate absurdity with which Noctis poses the question.

“Other than what fleeting and rare snippets the Gods show me, I’m sorry to say I see nothing of the future, Noctis. I know it may not seem it, but not all the details of our lives are written away in old books,”

“Figures, the one detail I _want_ to know…”

“A friendship like yours cannot be so easily severed as you think,” she smiles at Noctis’ visible shock at her having read him so well. “Even if you are thousands of miles away from one another, he’ll be by your side, and you by his, until the very end,”

“The end of what?” Noctis asks quietly, Luna growing warm as the prince squeezes her soft hand tightly.

“Only The Six themselves may know, Noctis,”

* * *

 

“I’ll have you know that while that was not your most shameful public appearance, we have much to work on in terms of your public oratory skills,” Ignis nags, the usual dining hall filled with lively chatter as dozens of esteemed guests converse with others. The ceremony, which Noctis felt to be a success, had ended four hours ago, with dinner having wrapped up a mere two. Regis had praised his son highly for a job well done, Noctis and Luna having recited the Poem of Creation before a crowd of thousands before vowing to banish Darkness _(“Phew, thank Gods I trusted my gut and didn’t go with Restore the Light,” Noctis had internally sighed as the two had pledged in unison.)_ , crossing their trident and broadsword ceremonially in symbolic unity.

Gladio had praised him for losing his fuzzy, baby down and finally sprouting a kingly feather. Iris had nearly swooned, smitten with his budding kingliness. Ignis, while congratulating Noctis on a job well done, wasted no time in offering pointers _“For future events”_ , Luna had thrown her arms around the prince in elation before kissing him on the cheek, the blonde woman losing herself in the joy of the after party’s company, chatting vivaciously with the same girlish carelessness he had caught a brief hint of earlier in the garden.

Cor had shaken Noctis’ hand, warning him that should he give such speeches in the future, the generals would look to him to counsel before Cor himself.

The one person, however, Noctis wishes to retire to, as the eve of such tiring occasions of grandeur draw to a close, is nowhere to be found. He knows Prompto is hiding somewhere amongst the crowd, the blonde an avid extrovert, his own two parents engaged in conversation with Regis. Noctis cannot help but laugh as the two are invested, yet dazed and shocked to be standing before the King in such regal company. The two had treated Noctis with that same distant sense of admiration, despite the prince’s protests, yet they had always gone above and beyond to make Noctis feel welcome.

He walks away from Ignis, who stops mid-sentence at Noctis’ sudden start. He pushes past socialites, cousins, generals, lawyers, bankers, and scholars in a desperate effort to find his best friend, a woman spilling a bit of red wine in her glass carelessly, Noctis barely managing to avoid getting the splash on either his shoes or suit.

“Prom!” he semi-yells, though his call is still not loud enough to carry over the almost deafening swirl of conversations that flow all around him. “Prom! _Prompto!_ ”

Noctis elicits a glare from a Glaive he carelessly bumps into on accident, lingering long enough to only offer a brief “sorry” before he finally catches sight of Prompto in what he could tell was a very shy conversation with Luna by a window.

“…Really must be proud, Prompto, I can only imagine the amount of work you have put in to earning these,” Luna smiles down at a set of Caelum ceremonial daggers Regis had bestowed upon Prompto a few weeks ago, having passed the official training test the royal family offered those who trained with any royal bodyguards.

“It really is an honor to be praised so highly by you, Lady Lunafreya,” Prompto bows, Noctis folding his arms and smiling. _“Maybe he really is the one who should be king, he’s got the grace, alright…”_

“Please call me Luna, Prompto…” she smiles, the two turning toward Noctis as he approaches them both.

“I-I was just showing --- _Luna_ \--- some of the pictures I managed to capture from today,” Prompto nervously explains, clearly quite shaken by addressing the Oracle by a first name basis.

“If I were in a more stable situation, I would easily offer Prompto a role as my official photographer after high school, no education required,”

“Perhaps we could do a photoshoot tomorrow?” Prompto suggests with a hopeful innocence that Noctis cannot help but smile at his best friend. “There’s no way Lestallum would turn down my application if I added pictures of the Oracle to my portfolio!”

“Unfortunately I must away to those who are sick about the Kingdom of Lucis,” she frowns, addressing Noctis as well as Prompto. “My current situation leaves me little room to travel, and I have not been to the Kingdom of Lucis since before my parent’s passing --- it is very politically unwise for me to do any blatant dealings with Noctis, his family, or Lucis,” she explains direly to the blonde. “It has been grand to see and meet you all, and make my devotion public, but I really had to move mountains to allow myself to see to Insomnia’s ill this weekend, and interact with the Caelums at all. Once the Empire catches word of our ceremony and my healing actions throughout the Kingdom, I shall have much fallout to deal with,”

“And you’re not scared? You basically just gave the Empire a giant _fuck you_?”

“There is nothing the Empire possesses that could frighten me out of doing my duty. I am merely playing my moves carefully and smartly,” Luna laughs at Prompto’s chosen language, who stares at the Princess with distinct admiration. “But I do promise you a photoshoot in the future --- not for your fulfilment, but for my own --- you have a talent Noctis has praised highly in our correspondence, and I see he is not one for exaggeration,”

Noctis reddens and casts his gaze to his feet, a wide grin spreading across Prompto’s face. “ _Dude! The Prince of Lucis told the Oracle I’m a good photographer?! I’m so getting letters of recommendations from you both for Lestallum_!” Prompto bounces on his feet. “I have to find mom and dad so they can hear it from you themselves, I’m sorry, Luna!”

“Not at all, Prompto,” she beams, Prompto scrambling off as Noctis awkwardly saunters closer to her.

“What an absolutely special person, Noctis,” she smiles. “You really are lucky to have such a friend,”

“I know, that’s why whenever he talks about going to Lestallum for five years, I want to fling myself from the roof,” he admits sadly.

“Five years will seem very short when you have ten years’ worth of responsibility on your plate at any given time,”

“And who says I’ll have five years to live when the ring takes its toll on me?”

“Don’t worry, Noctis. You’ll be a wonderful king,” Luna whispers, bringing her hands to his cheeks and kissing his forehead. “It has been wonderful seeing you again,”

“Yeah…it makes me miss Tenebrae so much…I love Tenebrae in the spring, it brings back so many memories of being with you, all the playing and talking we used to do…”

“I hold those memories dear to me, Noctis. They give me much needed strength,” she smiles as the blonde rushes toward them with his parents. “But something tells me you would give up a thousand springs in Tenebrae for an everlasting friendship,”

Noctis nods, also watching the approaching family with gentle affection.

“I owe Umbra, and _you_ , a lot…”

“You do not in the slightest, Noctis…” she whispers, their conversation drawing to a close as Prompto and his parents approach the two, Prompto’s father nearly illuminating the room he is so pale with shock at shaking the hand of so many influential people.

“They seem like a natural trio…” Gladio mumbles to Ignis, who takes a large gulp of wine before replying. “In another life, I see an inseparable band of friends,” Ignis mourns, watching their mouths fly in excited conversation.

 _“Versus the love triangle?!”_ Gladio smirks, Ignis raising his eyebrows. “I’ve already told you, I do not think Prompto and and Noctis are in love with one another, despite my doubts in the beginning…”

“Well, you’ve got _me_ convinced, so we’ve definitely switched places since our first conversation about them all those months ago,”

“I fail to see where you see a triangle, I could see perhaps a _trapezoid,_ all of them in love with each other,” Ignis analyzes.

“I do not envy the days they’re living,” Gladio shakes his head, Ignis observing silently as both Prompto and Noctis kiss Luna’s hand as she departs in conversation with Prompto’s parents, the two friends instantly sharing a deep connection in their gaze with one another before Prompto taps his King’s Knight app, the two of them high fiving before surveying the crowd around them, concluding they can slip out of the dining hall unnoticed and into Noctis’ private wing without catching any attention. They do so, stalking out quickly, undetected by everyone other than Gladio and Ignis themselves. Ignis bites his urge to scold Noctis for being a part of the hosting party and retiring early without first excusing himself, opening his mouth to agree pointedly with his best friend.

_“Not at all…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luna is such a hard character to write. Because she was so poorly, I mean, uniquely, handled by Square Enix, it is hard to give her any sense of personality or casualty without her seeming horribly out of character. I went into the game ready to ship the hell out of Luna and Noctis, and I left it ready to ship literally anyone but the two of them due to their lack of chemistry.  
> I'm hoping the promised content updates give Luna some flesh, so that I can root for their relationship the way Square clearly wants me too. I'm not saying people who do ship them are wrong, I see the outline of one of the best FF romances since Tidus and Yuna, it just needs a lot more buff and shine.
> 
> That being said, Promptis is my otp for this universe, and this fic will see them together. Still, Noctis, and to an extent, Luna, will have to work through their own strange relationship before Prompto and Noctis can even begin to explain their feelings to one another, though the two of them are certainly trying (and failing). 
> 
> I really pulled a Square Enix with the whole, talk about an important plot point but just have it happen off screen, but I figure no one is missing the ceremony scene. If enough of you are, I'll go back and write it in at some point.
> 
> The popularity of this story is pretty insane, and while I'm no expert on what constitutes fanfic popularity, everyone's comments and favs and likes and subscribes and upvotes and karma and whatever else has really been heartwarming. I'm having a lot of fun and I hope you are too. :)


	11. Tea Cakes

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause I know you, but…I could really tell you were kinda nervous out there,”

Noctis, whose eyes are closed shut in an attempt to fall asleep, can hear the smile in his best friend’s whisper, the two having opted to share Noctis’ bed together once more. They lie facing one another, their third try at ending the conversation in favor of rest failing once more because of Prompto’s desire to talk. Prompto’s own eyes are narrowed in weary affection toward his friend, who grips his pillow tighter and readjusts the way his head rests against it.

“I mean…of course I was…” Noctis responds, eyes still shut.

“I would’ve been nervous too, I guess, I mean, saying all that stuff, across from such a beautiful woman…” Prompto trails off, Noctis nodding his head. “Yeah, Luna seriously makes it hard to concentrate sometimes…” Noctis brings his wrist across his forehead, rolling over onto his back, eyes still closed. _“So why are you in bed with Prompto instead of in her guest quarters?”_ his thoughts acutely question him, Noctis replying to his own internal monologue with a heavily expelled sigh.

“I can’t believe she likes my photos,”

“I can. I told her you were really talented,” Noctis mumbles.

“Yeah, and way to compliment my whole entire existence into orbit, dude…” Prompto chuckles, using his elbow to support his head in his hands as a small smile creeps on Noctis’ lips. “You don’t think I have a chance with her, do you?” Prompto asks, barely above a whisper, Noctis sitting up slowly, wiping his eyes in groggy jealousy.

“What do you mean?!”

“I-I mean…” Prompto abashedly stutters at the prince’s reaction, who cannot help but glare slightly at the nervous blonde. “I-I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries, Noct, I know she’s---she’s---“ Prompto deflates, twirling his fingers in Noctis’ delicate blanket. “….She’s way outta my league,”

“She’s out of everyone’s, you know? She’s a princess _and_ an Oracle, and she’s so serious all the time. I really adore her, but I don’t see how any one man or woman could ever satisfy her…” a pleasing purr rumbles in Noctis’ chest as Prompto nods in agreement, before grinning devilishly.

“I mean, I could think of a way or two to _satisfy_ her…”

“Naughty, Prom…” Noctis falls against the pillow again, Prompto holding out his hands and shaking them wildly. “I’m just kidding, don’t behead me…”

“I kinda walked into that one, to be honest…”

“But, uh…do you really mean what you said out there? About banishing Darkness?” Prompto asks more seriously, Noctis content with the change of conversation, welcoming a distraction from the quickly spiraling thoughts of jealousy that manifested whenever Prompto’s voice grew quiet and soft at the thought of another.

“Of course I do…”

“So, what does it mean, then?” Prompto wonders.

“Well, I’ll have to take over powering the wall, for starters, and make sure the Crystal is well protected…” Noctis contemplates, though not truly content with the idea of discussing such a daunting topic at midnight. “And Luna said she’s going all over Lucis to heal the sick, starting tomorrow…”

“Yeah, even though my dad keeps all of that out, people contract it when they go to other Kingdoms. So I guess Luna’s goin’ on a bit of pilgrimage to heal those sick within the border, but she doesn’t have long, because there’s no doubt the Empire’s unhappy with the whole ceremony thing,”

“Do you think The Empire’ll be aggressive towards you and your dad, too?”

“Fuck, I never even thought of that…”

“Score one for Prompto, the barrel of laughs, I guess…” Prompto sighs sarcastically, staring up at Noctis’ canopy.

“All I know is if that Izunia dude comes back and tries to hurt my family, or go after you…” Noctis threatens into his pillow, Prompto smiling down at Noctis, brushing a few strands of black hair out of his still closed eyes.

“I thought I was your _brother_ , Noct, don’t I count as family?” he asks the price dreamily, who groans into his pillow.

“You’re the worst, Prom…”

“Sweet dreams to you too there, buddy!”  Prompto grins, stretching loudly, Noctis cringing at the sound of Prompto’s entire spine cracking with satisfying crunches. “You good to do some Spring Festival planning with me in the morning?”

“Yeah, as long as Ignis doesn’t have some dumb book for me to read or something…”

“Not even King yet, and everyone wants something from you…” Prompto pulls back the covers, Noctis lifting his head up slowly, his wild, sleep-tossed hair concealing his heavily-lidded eyes. “Where’re you going?”

“I just got a taste for some of Ignis’ teacakes, I was gonna go see if there were any in the kitchens…” Prompto admits shamefully, his matching set of tonberry pajamas nearly two sizes too big for him. “Bring me back one, okay?” Noctis falls back down with a thud.

“Sure thing, your laziness…”

“I’m keeping a wall up from Daemons and Chancellors to keep you safe…” Noctis protests, Prompto patting Noctis on the head as he walks past him, slowly slipping through Noctis’ bedroom door. “My hero…” he whispers jokingly, dodging Noctis’ hand swat before closing his door with a soft snap.

He tip toes barefoot across the cold, marble floor of the hallway, his shadow slowly surfing across the various closed doors that lead to other rooms before he slowly stops, his eyes registering in the darkness long enough to notice the almost eerie frame of Luna, who wears a deep blue nightgown almost as dark as the midnight sky, resting against the thick white edge of a large terrace overlooking the city.

“Are you alright, Luna?” Prompto wonders quietly, inching slowly closer. She turns around serenely, nodding delicately at the blonde, her lack of protest at his approaching frame encouraging him to do so with increased speed. _“Even at midnight, she looks like a queen,”_ he laments his own over sized, cotton pajamas, though the warmth with which she continues to look at him spurns him with the courage to talk further.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“My guest room rests above what I am learning is the nightlife district of Insomnia, apparently. Even on a Saturday night, their jubilations over my and Noctis’ pledge seem to have been a catalyst for many a happy hour…” she laughs, gesturing to the glowing lights below, Prompto able to pick up loud, boisterous music and raucous laughing below. “It’s impossible to sleep, although I am quite flattered,”

Prompto grins, growing red as she retains eye contact with him, clearly nowhere near as nervous as he himself was. “You guys really brought a hope to Insomnia that I didn’t even know we were missing,” Prompto nods. “Which reminds me, you should really try to get some sleep, Luna --- I know you have to leave bright and early to heal people around the Kingdom…”

“I’ll find rest eventually, Prompto, please do not worry on behalf of my well being…”

“But who worries about _yours_ , while you go and worry for millions of others?” Prompto high fives himself mentally as his albeit genuinely meant question elicits a gentle laugh from the princess. “I hope Noctis treats you well, Prompto…” is all she says, silent for the fifteen or so seconds it takes for Prompto to gather the courage to ask the burning question upon his mind.

“Why me, Luna?” he asks with a conviction he must subconsciously borrow from Luna’s own contagious strength.

“I don’t understand your question…”

“Why me, all those months ago?”

Luna jumps slightly as she realizes what the blonde before her meant, closing her large eyes in thought before she expresses her own. “Before I answer your question, I must first ask one of you; have I fulfilled your request to no longer frighten you?” she laughs, Prompto face palming as her gaze follows him as he turns in place from embarrassment.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to successfully explain to either you or Noctis just why magical animals wandering in and out of your room on a semi-regular basis is something those not chosen by The Six will ever get used to,” Prompto laughs with raised eyebrows. “To be fair, I didn’t know your identity, your Ladyship. I never would have, had Noctis not let it slip that Umbra was your dog,”

“Noctis must tell you a lot,”

“Yeah,” Prompto nods, pulling his camera out of his pajama pants pocket ( _“Dedicated indeed to his art, like any King or Oracle,” Luna notes_ ). “You wouldn’t mind if I take your picture?” he asks breathlessly, Luna slightly posing gracefully against the white stone of the veranda, Prompto snapping a blue-tinted picture of the Oracle, full moon perfectly in frame in the right hand corner.

“I see moments, and I can’t let them go by,” Prompto explains cryptically, Luna beaming at the blonde’s camera display. “I will send Umbra to formally request a copy of your lovely image,”

“Thanks for the warning this time,” Prompto chuckles, Luna placing a soft hand on his bicep.

“To answer your question…” Luna starts, looking up at the clear sky in an attempt to find the right words. “Noctis and I have been very close, even as children. I have attempted to stay in contact with the prince, despite my state of glorified captivity by the Empire. He’s expressed loneliness to me ever since he was very young. I’ve worried for the prince, all these years, I knew he needed the right person to bring out the kind and caring spirit he harbors within himself, yet rarely shows toward others. He can be quite lazy, pompous, and walled off, all qualities unbefitting of the future king. I knew he could never ascend to his role without the guidance of unconditional friendship. He relies heavily on the support of those around him, as you have assuredly come to see. When Umbra came to me that day and expressed to me the way you selflessly stood by Noctis’ side for his own betterment, I knew right away it was worth the try to reach out to you in hope of you befriending the young prince,”

Prompto stares at his own clasped hands that support his leaning body against the ledge. Had that truly been the meaning behind it all? Was Prompto merely a grooming tool, as Gladio and Ignis had been, a pawn by the Gods and the Oracle to assist Noctis in shedding his anxiety disorders so he could fulfil his duty? He cannot understand where his sense of surprise and even betrayal stem from; the initial writings from Luna had stated exactly that, after all. She had been very clear with her intentions since the beginning, Prompto notes.

 _“Befriend the prince, so he can develop into the King he needs to be, so that Eos may continue to exist, and the Line of Lucis can continue.”_ Prompto mentally summarizes. “I’m glad you did, Luna,” is all Prompto can muster after surfacing above his thoughts.

“Though I feel my explanation has left you still with unease,”

“If I may be so bold, Luna…” Prompto begins at the invitation, choosing his words carefully. “Your writing that night --- you made it clear that it was imperative I befriend Noctis,”

“Yes, for without true friendship, I fear he will be unable to find the strength to accept his destiny,”

“And then, the fate of Eos and _love_ thing…” Prompto starts, his heart beating rapidly in his throat.

“Should Noctis not have your friendship to support him through his journey of self-growth, how could he ascend as one of the Chosen to protect Eos from the Scourge? I alone cannot do the job, so it has been ordained,”

“Does that mean I’m just his _therapy dog_?” Prompto scoffs, surprised and thankful Luna does not take offense of his dismissive and scathing tone.

“Prompto, Ignis Scientia and Gladiolus Amicitia are tradition-bound tools to Noctis’ benefit, but does that make the bond of brotherhood they share with one another any less genuine and true?” Luna questions with the same even kindness, Prompto’s anger lessening as he slowly shakes his head.

“Although your friendship is indeed one forged from the very same necessity, does that make link you have created with the other three any less genuine as well?” she continues, Prompto continuing to shake his head. “Although you and I only meet due to our mutual relations with Noctis Lucis Caelum, did that not make your concern for me when you saw me alone this night any less genuine?” she concludes, Prompto smiling smally before he closes his eyes.

“I suppose you’re right,”

“I am very good at what I do, Prompto,” she grins, though her smile slackens as she sees the look of continued concern on Prompto’s face.

“But there’s just one flaw there, Lady Luna…” the blonde’s voice shakes slightly, his breath rattling starkly as he inhales to complete his thought. “I think it went too far. Noctis is finding it harder and harder to fulfil his obligations the closer we come to graduation, and…” Prompto swallows, looking pointedly at the city below, a collective swoop of cheers sounding as the clock strikes one am, the parties below showing no sign of ceasing. “I’ve fallen in love with him,”

He’s entirely numb as the adrenaline of admitting his secret out loud pumps blood throughout his entire body.

“Does he know this?” Luna asks quietly, Prompto quickly shaking his head no. “Does anyone?”

“I finally admitted it to my parents last night, before this party, but I think…I think they’ve always suspected. I’ve always wanted to be a photographer, you know? I’ve been dreaming of Lestallum ever since I was in grade school. I figure out in two months whether or not I go, but Noctis doesn’t want me to leave, and I don’t want to leave _him_ , and my parents…they told me not to give up my dreams, not even for the prince. I told them, you know…I told them yesterday. I finally said that he’s the only thing that’d ever keep me here if I get in, and _Noct_ knows that, even. But they told me…they told me not to toss my future away for feelings that probably aren’t even returned…there’s no way Noctis would ever be with a man. Don’t get me wrong, I _really like_ women, I’ve never felt this way about a boy in my entire life,” Prompto finds himself unable to stop, thankful for Luna’s listening ear.

“But he’s never shown any interest in me, you know? And even if he was interested, he’d be too busy to ever pursue anything, and even if he _wasn’t too busy_ , a King needs a _Queen_ , not a…well…I will say that Noctis has been distracted and kinda defiant about becoming King, because he knows that means our friendship will never be the same, and that’s kind of why I need to go to Lestallum. I was meant to ultimately help him claim his throne when the time comes, not distract him from it and fall in love with him. I’m going to Lestallum because it’s my dream, but also because I can’t pine after the fucking _Prince of Lucis_ …”

“You’re not planning on abandoning him, are you?” is all Luna asks, Prompto feeling like he is in danger of developing a tick should he continue to shake his head so much. “No…I’ll always be there as his best friend, he never needs to know my feelings. And frankly, I was kinda hoping some time away from him would help me work them out, so that I could come back to him and be the better friend who’s moved on completely. I think a lot of it just has to do with the fact that he’s my _own_ first real friend, and I’ve never been adored or wanted before; I was in and out of foster care until the ‘parents’ of mine you met yesterday adopted me when I was thirteen. I try, Luna. He’s always telling me how he wants me to stay, but it’s gonna make things worse, at least for a while…”

“You handle your own struggles with such grace that you have no need to feel so coy around me,” Luna smiles. “I do not know who is meant for Noctis in regards to continuing the Line of Lucis, but I understand how it feels, to put your own feelings aside for duty,”

“Does that mean you…Noctis…you know…?” Prompto asks, Luna nodding slowly. “Ever since we were young…but Empires divided us, and there are millions of women with whom he may be fated to be…”

The two listen to the sounds of the drunken celebrators below, lost in thought and saying nothing at their mutual confessions. “He’s waiting on me, actually. I left a twenty minutes ago to go sneak teacakes from the kitchen,” Prompto can’t help but smile.

“You two truly are inseparable. And even if it is not romantic, know that Noctis’ affection for you permeates through every letter he sends through Umbra’s book,”

“So you don’t hate me for feeling the way I do about Noctis, even though you feel the same?”

“As I said, I accepted long ago that my own desires are meaningless in the wake of what is meant for the two of us,”

“I hope I can be just as good at it as you,”

“I don’t doubt your capabilities, Prompto,” Luna lifts his head before kissing him softly on his freckled cheek, the blonde lifting a hand to touch the very spot that tingles as her lips break away slowly.

“Thank you for checking up on me, but I fear Noctis will rush out of bed with worry if you don’t return to him soon,” she smiles, Prompto nodding himself out of his daze, offering her an awkward goodnight before bowing and rushing toward the kitchens.

* * *

 

“Nearly an hour to find five tea cakes?” Prompto is surprised to find Noctis sits up when he returns with an armful of tea cakes, scrolling moodily through his cellphone. His friend does not look him the eye after his snappy comment, but merely continues to swipe his finger across the screen of his smartphone.

“Sorry, I uh --- I got held up,”

“I tried texting you,” Noctis snaps.

“To be fair, you were nearly asleep when I left, dude,”

“Okay, but when you slipped out of bed and said, ‘I’m getting teacakes, I’ll be right back’, and don’t come back or answer my messages over the course of an hour and a half, I’m gonna get kind of worried,”

“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” Prompto asks incredulously, Noctis’ face growing hot as he texts Ignis a quick message unbeknownst to his friend.

_Nevermind, Iggy. He came back to bed. Sorry for waking you up. I just got really scared._

He hits send before the blonde could read his screen as he crawls back to bed, placing his plate of tea cakes on a flat part of the bed’s surface and placing his camera onto a bedside table.

“I did, but I didn’t find you anywhere, but I figured I’d just come back to bed and hoped you showed up again,” Noctis fibs, Prompto shaking his head at the dreadful liar, taking a tea cake off the plate and shoving it in the prince’s mouth, who starts with surprise at the sudden pastry.

“I ran into Luna, and we just talked for a while,”

“What about?” Noctis asks quickly, chewing as he swallows nearly the entire cake whole.

“Just about her duties this weekend, it was a fascinating conversation,” Prompto succeeds at injecting a loftiness into his voice that allows Noctis to buy his own slight fib. “What was she even doing up so late?”

“Her guest room is right below the parties going on in the Red Light District. I offered to switch --- her in your bed, i-instead…” Prompto stutters, Noctis placing a third of a tea cake back onto a plate.

“I have a hard time sleeping without you next to me if I know you’re around,” Noctis explains, fluffing his pillow.

“What do you mean, Noct?”

“Nothing,” Noctis snaps back with a finality that Prompto respects, lying down and choosing to say nothing else. Their habit of sharing a bed had initially started when the two had stayed up until two doing homework, moving from the desk, then to the floor, and eventually onto Noctis’ bed, the two having passed out amongst a messy sea of stationary and textbooks. On nights without homework when they were together, Prompto had initially enjoyed the comfort of his guest room, but often found himself unable to sleep due to texting Noctis in the other room.

Their text conversations never lasted long before Noctis suggested the blonde merely come back into his own bedroom and chat until one of them fell asleep, in which case they’d go back to their respective beds. Such a promise had never been fulfilled, as it quickly devolved into merely climbing into Noctis’ bed, chatting until sleep finally won the battle.

 _“It has to stay nothing,”_ Prompto reminds himself mentally, their backs touching as they try to sleep, curled in opposite directions. The conversation he shared with Luna is fresh in his racing mind. Yet between even his thoughts and the occasional celebratory roars in honor of the Prince and Oracle, they manage to find their usual comfort in one another, drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

Ignis had never been one to oblige instances of the prince’s hasty insistence that _“everything is fine, don’t worry about it, forget I said anything.”_

When Noctis had texted him frantically that Prompto had gone missing, he threw a robe over his nude body (Ignis loved the comfort of his cool, satiny sheets against his skin) and instantly patrolled the residential floor of the citadel. After first inspecting the kitchens and miraculously concluding that he wasn’t there, he merely figured Prompto was plagued by a bout of indigestion and was stuck in the bathroom as a result. When he heard the quiet voice of Luna engaged in conversation, however, he knew he had found the elusive blonde at such an obscene hour.

He stopped, hoping to half “aww” half “cringe” at Prompto’s silly and shy attempts to woo the Oracle, though Ignis’ sassy desire to spy on Prompto led instead to the realization that his initial suspicion regarding at least _one_ of them had indeed been correct. Ignis closed his eyes solemnly as he overheard the barely audible confession Prompto surrendered to Luna.

_I found Prompto. He is on his way to the kitchen now. I told him to be quick and head back to bed. Goodnight, Noct._

Was the text that Ignis quickly drafted to Noctis as he walked back to his bedroom, distinctly leaving out eavesdropped details involving Prompto and his romantic feelings for Noctis. That secret, Ignis sighed, placing his glasses back on his bedside table and pinching the bridge of his nose in silent desperation, was safe with him (and Gladio).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooo baby a short one! Ignis has all the prompto tea but he's not gonna spill it because hes not a fake ass hoe.


	12. Lucis in Waiting

“So then, you mean there _is_ a love triangle…” Gladio asks Ignis, who quietly sips his tea. Gladio looks around him on all sides, careful to make sure no one had stepped into the sitting room in which the two share their private conversation. The room itself had been the favorite sitting room of Noctis’ mother. The cream white and dark blue walls had always given the impression of eternal sun filtering in, even in Insomnia’s darkest days. Cabinets along the wall contain impressive China collections the woman assembled over her young, short life.

“Indeed. I feel the Lucians I’ve given you over the last few weeks are enough to buy my way out of hearing _‘I told you so,’_ ”

“Both of them are in love with Noctis…” Gladio rubs his forehead in his hands, looking down at the blue and silver Oriental rug. “Mind gettin’ it outta the way if you are, too?”

“Gladio, please don’t be ridiculous,” Ignis shakes his head. “I love him, yes, but as a brother and my friend,”

“Yeah, can’t say my heartbeat gets faster if I think about holding hands with the kid,” Gladio chuckles.

“Though I must say, I do feel for Prompto,” Ignis starts.

“Why’s that?”

“Luna, although her feelings may go unreciprocated, I imagine would only be due to duty. Noctis clearly seems to have feelings for her that are beyond platonic. Prompto, on the other hand…he’s merely the first mate. He’s not royalty, nor is he of elevated status, like you and I. I’ve also never known Noctis to be interested in a man in any way. I simply do not see Prompto’s love going beyond unrequieted,”

“So then, your money’s on Luna…” Gladio chuckles, shaking his head. “Maybe the _‘Bespectacled Bang God_ ’ really is losing his touch…”

“Ugh, the names we come up with for ourselves in high school…” Ignis groans, pouring himself more green tea from the blue cast iron teapot.  “Besides, what do you mean?”

“I think Noctis is just as confused in his feelings for Prompto as Prompto is over him,”

“Either way you must keep your suspicions to yourself, and either way it sadly does not matter what the truth is, for truth does not take Noctis’ fate into account,”

“Yeah, you’re right…” Gladio is quick to be quiet, for Noctis and Prompto come walking through. Prompto is still in his tonberry pajamas, Noctis in his sweat pants and undershirt, their hair still sticking up wildly in various, unkempt directions.

“It’s eleven o’clock and the two of you look like you rolled down the throne room steps for eight hours…” Ignis scoffs, bringing his teacup back to his upturned lips.

“It’s also a Sunday morning, so get over it,” Noctis retorts, Prompto yawning, rubbing his eyes as he smiles. “Good morning, guys,” he beams.

“You’ve missed Luna’s departure, though admittedly, so did we,” Ignis concedes, intentionally ignoring the slight redness that creeps on Prompto’s face at the mention of Luna.

“Your father is also expecting to hear from the Niffs at some point --- they’re _not_ gonna like what went down over the weekend,”

“Me and Prom were just gonna grab some bananas and go back to planning the Festival, for real…” Noctis ignores both of their statements, though it is Gladio who rises at the comment, Ignis opting for silence.

"Well I think you'll have a change of plans when you read today's newspaper," Gladio grunts, tossing Noctis a newspaper bearing the bold headline _“Niflheim Empire Not As Inspired by Display of Unity Between Prince and Oracle, Emperor Aldercapt Threatening Aggression Should King Regis or Prince Noctis Not Publicly Retract Statements”._

"Yeah, I heard..." Noctis yawns, stretching. "I was gonna talk to dad about it later on, after me and Prom get stuff for the festival done,"

“So then what you’re telling me with a straight face is that you’re gonna wait until nearly the afternoon to get out of bed and wash your ass, while your father, Luna, Iggy, I, and all of _your_ staff members have been up since before the sun rose, making sure the world is in working order so that you can go and plan _school parties_?!”

“I-I’m sorry, Gladio, all this was kinda my idea to-to---“ Prompto instantly interjects in an attempt to salvage their pleasant mood, though the damage seems to have already been done.

“This is nowhere near your fault, Prompto,” Gladio interrupts aggressively, though Prompto still stands nervously as the bodyguard clearly displays why he was so best suited for the job. Regardless of their difference in size, however, Noctis stands his ground, the two glaring murderously at one another. “Noctis has been a brooding, inconsiderate little _shit_ since way before you came along. Everyone around him gives, gives, _gives_ , even Prompto, the only one of us who isn’t bound to _any_ of this, puts his all into seeing the success of this Kingdom, more than Noctis ever has. Everything gets a scoff or an eye roll, any implication of doing anything other than being a bratty piece of shit is just such an affront to his perfect highness, and I’m sick of it!”

_“Gladio…”_

“I’m not gonna tell you how to do your job, Ignis, but you could do with deflating this one’s ego just a little bit before I punch a hole through his smug face and do it for him. Get your head out of your fucking ass and grow up, Noctis. Spring Festivals are meaningless if there’s no Lucis left to hold one in, and you’d be even denser than you already seem if you believe any of the lands beyond your daddy’s wall will worship you to the point where you can get away with lying in your own filth. ”

“The Festival is my project, I encouraged him to work on it with me ---“

“For the last time, Prompto, this has nothing to do with you. I won’t say it again,” Gladio snaps, the blonde looking away from the scene, holding his notebook close to his chest. “You’ve gotten away with way too much without the ass kicking you deserve waiting for you on the end of it, Noctis. I’m not Ignis, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell not Prompto. You’re not gonna stroll in in front of me how you want, when you want, talking to me how you want. You’re gonna go in your bathroom, get yourself fucking presentable before noon, if it’s not too mentally taxing ---“

“And you’re gonna sit your ass down with your advisor and your father’s staff to figure out what move we are going to make next,” Gladio finishes with such commanding intensity in his voice that the whole room is struck by silence, save for the sound of fabric brushing against itself every time Prompto awkwardly shifts where he stands.

Noctis storms from the room, his fists balled, though in the direction of his bedroom to heed Gladio’s harsh words. “I don’t care how upset he is about his father’s health or _you_ ,” Gladio points to Prompto bluntly. “He deserves a kick in the teeth from everyone he seems to think isn’t putting their suffering aside as well to do their own jobs,” Prompto cannot help but think back to his conversation with Luna the night before, realizing he too, put his own personal feelings on hold so as to do his job of guiding Noctis to his throne.

“Gladio…”

“Fuck off if you think he didn’t deserve it, Iggy,”

“I won’t be fucking off anywhere, I do agree with your sentiment…” Ignis replies, slightly taken aback.

“I know you told me to shut it, but…” Prompto begins, Ignis facing the blonde, Gladio listening, albeit with his head in his hands. “That’s why I’m leaving for Lestallum,”

“What’re you sayin’?” Gladio asks, considerably softer in tone towards him that towards the one he guards.

“Noct’ll sit around with me all day if he could. As much as I wish it could stay that way with my best friend, I know that he has a lot more important things to do…I’ll face time him every day, I’ll never stop talking to him…”

“I dunno what it’s gonna take to get Noctis to pull himself together,” Gladio starts, Prompto too, shaking his head as Ignis collects the tea set and heads into the kitchen without another word.

* * *

 

“To retract the statements would be unwise,” a booming voice to the right of Noctis sounds, other voices of his father’s cabinet muttering in unifying agreement. He glances to the left of him, where his father sits beside him in stoic thought. Noctis thus moves his head to stare straight ahead at Ignis, who is too busy scrawling the notes of the meeting to meet his eyes.

“Does the prince have any thoughts on the matter?” A woman asks from far down the table, Noctis nodding slightly, the cloak that adorns his shoulder swinging as he stands. “I will not be retracting my vow to stand by Lunafreya to end Darkness across Eos,” Noctis states, surprised at the leader-like presence he finds within himself.

“Does this then mean we are to prepare for Niflheim aggression?” another advisor asks, Noctis growing hot as he blanks on a direct, firm answer ---

“I have already reached out to Emperor Aldercapt in regards to hosting talks between each of our kingdoms in regards to the ceremony on Friday,” Regis takes over, Noctis doing his best to stand beside him as an equally kingly son. “My son and the Lady Oracle meant what they said, and said what they meant. I refuse, as does my son, to take back our promise to the people of Eos to end the tyranny of the Stars, Should Niflheim have any objection to our claims, we are to deal with them as they come. Do not prepare for war, but do not stow away your defenses completely,”

“How are we to alert the press? They’re waiting outside for an official statement, Your Majesty,”

“My son Noctis shall take over concerns of the press,”

It takes all of Noctis’ strength not to dry heave from nerves at his father’s announcement. Ignis looks up toward the prince above his the rim of his glasses, exhaling quietly.

“This meeting is adjourned; I must away to my study to continue negotiations with the Emperor. Prince Noctis shall need an escort to the courtyard to address the press immediately,”

 _“I don’t even get a chance to fucking think of what I’m supposed to say?!”_ Noctis thinks, petrified as the cabinet members rise at once, filing out the large doors behind Regis. “Sure is nice how quickly everyone can come together to pull an emergency meeting!” Noctis snaps to Ignis in mock joy. The outfit --- a black suit with matching black Chelsea boots, a thick, black cloak affixed upon his shoulders by intricate golden skull clasps --- Noctis quite likes, however.

“Guess I’m gonna go talk to the press,” Noctis sighs, flanked by Ignis on his right, and various members of the cabinet behind them. “What are you planning on saying, exactly?!” Ignis raises an eyebrow, Noctis merely pressing forward down the hallway, a couple of Glavies parting a set of doors as Noctis approaches a podium that now stands atop the marble landing of the castle’s front entrance.

He is instantly overwhelmed by the journalists, camera flashes blinding him, a sea of microphones and muffled, desperate dialogue awaiting him below. He takes the time it takes for the cabinet members behind him to file into position as a moment to regain his thoughts. His eyes scan across the crowd to see every news agency in the entire world of Eos had a representative, ready to soak in his words from the source. His heart skips a beat, however, as he picks out Prompto’s blonde head in the crowd with his camera to his eye, the young man lowering it briefly to share a gentle, encouraging look with his best friend.

 _It’s okay, Noct…_ the blonde mouths before bringing his camera to his eye once more.

“Remember my coaching for press conferences…” Ignis whispers into his ear, Noctis’ eyes still lingering on Prompto, furrowing his brow and raising his hand for relative silence. “I will now start accepting questions,” he points to a woman representing the Lucian Herald.

“Do you wish to retract your statements made on Friday’s ceremony regarding your partnership with Lady Lunafreya?”

“I stand by my earlier words as firmly today as I did on Friday,” Noctis offers before pointing his finger to the Galahd Gazette.

“Has Lady Lunafreya expressed any concerns regarding Niflheim’s statements?”

“I will not be answering questions on behalf of the Oracle,” he shoots out before pointing to the Duscae Enquirer.

“Do either you or King Regis suspect that Niflheim will strike should you not retract your statements?”

“My father is currently in negotiation with the Niflheim Empire, and talks between the two Kingdoms are thus far cordial and peaceful,”

“Do you harbor any romantic feelings towards the Oracle?”

“I will not be answering personal questions,” Noctis answers firmly, though he adjusts the pull of the cloak against his neck slightly.

“Your high school graduation draws nearer, have you made any thoughts towards the selection of your personal Crownsguard or Kingsglaive?” a representative of the Lestallum Evening News questions.

“Neither Crownsguard nor Kingsglaive selections have been finalized,” Noctis shares briefly, ignoring Ignis’ subtle glare that he assuredly knew was because Ignis could tell the young man had forgotten about those selections entirely.

“You have been spotted throughout Insomnia with a blonde young man as of late, what is the significance of this individual?”

“I will not be answering personal questions,” Noctis repeats tersely, his heart beating rapidly as he makes eye contact with Prompto, Noctis nearly missing the question he subconsciously takes in their focused connection.

“What are your plans should your recent actions lead to war for the Lucian Kingdom?”

“Your father’s health is in rapid decline, have you prepared tomb or funeral arrangements?”

“How much longer can your father power the wall before his life is taken?”

“Where is Lady Lunafreya’s first healing stop within Lucis?”

“Do you plan to take your father’s title as soon as you finish your education?”

“Is the blonde you have been seen with a lover of yours?”

“We are no longer accepting any questions,” Ignis jumps in, guiding the catatonic and overwhelmed Noctis into the castle as other journalists shout collectively, camera shutters blinding the cabinet members who too, file back into the building.

“You did the best you could. Well done,” Ignis clasps a hand on his shoulder before helping to guide Noctis away from the roaring crowd and into Noctis’ private wing. He somewhat forces Noctis down into a stiff backed armchair in the sitting room, Gladio standing by the window and looking down at the crowd silently with his arms folded. Noctis merely stares at his hands, the palms of which are red, clammy, and wrinkly with sweat.

“Your answers were very professional,” Ignis continues as he hands Noctis a glass of water, which he willingly accepts.

“I don’t want to cause a war,”

“But you need to be ready to meet one,” Gladio warns gruffly from the corner. Noctis says nothing in response, taking a gulp from his crystal glass. “Everyone’s gonna be in my face at school tomorrow…”

“I’m sure Prompto will keep you much needed company,” Ignis assures him.

“Where is he?” Noctis wonders, a sudden desire to be alone with the blonde in silence overwhelming him.

“Fighting through the crowd, I imagine,”

“I’ll go get him outta there,” Gladio offers, leaving the room without another word.

“Please do not be upset at Gladio…he merely said what needed to be said…” Ignis starts quietly.

“I’m not upset,” Noctis snaps, tossing his cloak onto another couch and stretching out his legs. “I just wanna be alone with Prompto for a while,”

Ignis frowns, though sympathetic. The two had much to discuss, considering the fact their friendship had been so public that the reporters of cities a thousand miles away seemed aware of their intimate brotherhood. Up until their friendship, Noctis rarely walked about Insomnia candidly, Prompto having encouraged the prince to see more of his own kingdom.

“Where’s dad?”

“Still in negotiation over the phone with the Emperor,”

“Should I…be involved in that at all?” Noctis asks sheepishly, Ignis shaking his head and plucking the glass from his hands. “If your presence is needed, best know Gladio or myself will not hesitate to bother you. I imagine you have a good couple of hours before dinner to discuss what you must with Prompto,” Ignis assures him, Noctis rising as Gladio and Prompto walk into the room, Prompto rushing instantly towards his best friend.

“ _Dude_ \---“

“I know,” Noctis interrupts. “I was hoping we could go and talk, in private, if that’s alright,” Noctis turns to glare at Gladio, whose unfriendly scowl does not falter where Gladio’s own internal anger at the prince does slightly. “Go decompress, but don’t take all day, your father’s gonna wanna talk to you about the conference when he gets off the phone,” he brings a hand to drag wearily across his face as the two leave toward Noctis’ bedroom.

“Try not to stay angry at him for too long, Gladio. He did really well out there for such an impromptu affair. I get the feeling he won’t be able to handle the pressure from all sides if the tension between you two continues,”

“I’m not all too angry anymore, Iggy…just doin’ my job,” Gladio mutters sadly.

* * *

 

“I got some great pictures out there…” Prompto pipes up quietly as Noctis holds open his bedroom door for the blonde, who watches in shock as Noctis undoes his suit slacks, letting them drop to the floor where he stands. “I get the feeling news agencies all over the world would pay big bucks for them…too bad I can’t be bought off…” Prompto tries to mask his nervousness as Noctis marches around in just his boxers, dress shirt, and boots, though he quickly tosses his boots messily into a corner before pulling up a pair of discarded sweatpants, his fingers undoing his dress shirt before he flings it too into an unknown part of the room.

“You don’t think you’re getting undressed too soon, do you? They might need you for something else…”

“I don’t care,” Noctis mutters back, pulling a black undershirt over his head and tugging it across his chest.

“You really did sound like a King out there, but did you hear their crazy questions?! Who am I? Are we _lovers_?!” Prompto laughs, camera in hand as he goes to show the captured pictures to Noctis, who approaches him. He takes the camera and places it down, instead pulling Prompto’s shirt over his head and tossing him his own discarded pajama shirt from before. The blonde sheepishly obliges, slipping into his pajama bottoms as well, Noctis dragging Prompto softly into his bed with him, the blonde utterly stunned at Noctis’ wordless yet deliberate actions.

“Are you okay, Noct?” Prompto whispers as the two sit upon the bed, Prompto kicking off his own shoes before swinging his legs back upon the covers. “I know you wanted to talk…”

But talking was the complete opposite of what Noctis wanted. He merely wanted the entire world shut off and away, their accusatory voices and eyes ceasing to reach them beyond his closed door. He wanted no one else by his side but Prompto, his best friend, whose smile and contagious optimism always worked to eventually alleviate Noctis of his worries. Prompto too, finds himself confused as to what it is he wants when Noctis pulls his body down to rest against his own, his arms wrapped comfortingly around his best friend as he closes his eyes in an attempt to steal a brief nap before dinner.

 _“It must be hard for them to not see us the way they do…”_ Prompto wonders as he closes his eyes as well, his arms wrapped around Noctis’ chest as he falls asleep against the prince’s bicep, Noctis opening his eyes to admire the dozing blonde, whose hair he strokes quietly. _“But there is no giving up your lineage for me; Lucis can’t wait for Prompto, even if you want it to”_ Noctis had never forgotten Prompto’s words. It was in this moment, Noctis concludes, resisting the urge to bring the blonde into a long kiss by closing his eyes and falling back to sleep as well, that Lucis could indeed wait until supper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I am a grown adult with a serious job and I just come home and eat and finish up details from the day that could not be finished at work, exercise, write, and sleep. i've done nothing else for literally two weeks. so here's another short chapter and now i HAVE TO TAKE A SERIOUS BREAK to do things like grocery shop and clean out my car and make lunch for work next week and let my family know im not dead!


	13. The King's Court

“We saw your ceremony on tv, Noctis! It was awesome!”

“I was glued to the radio! You even made my dad cry!” Erasmus beams, patting Noctis on the shoulder. The prince, in his typical cluelessness, didn’t find it unreasonable to assume his classmates would have skipped viewing the ceremony entirely. Instead, the prince had been bombarded, albeit by positive attention, all day.

“You looked great up there!”

“Luna looked even better!”

“Please tell us Lady Lunafreya will be around more often!”

“Do you know where she gets her dresses? I’d _love_ to rock her look at graduation!”

“I have family who live in the mountains near the Disc of Cauthess, and they have to deal with Daemons a lot. It really means so much to all my relatives that you vowed to make this world a safer place for us and them,”

“Are you really gonna dedicate yourself to keeping the wall up and Starscourge out of Insomnia?”

“Isn’t Starscourge just a disease beyond the wall, though?” Octavia asks another girl who stands beside her, who shrugs.

“I…uh…” Noctis mumbles, surrounded by a handful of classmates who eagerly await his dozens of simultaneous responses. Prompto, who’d warned Noctis alongside Ignis, on the drive to school, that he would be more so an object of popularity than usual, uses the lunch break as a chance to rest his eyes, the blonde’s arms folded across Noctis’ desk, his head cradled against them.

Prompto always found himself unable to sleep the first few nights he slept alone in his own bed after a weekend with Noctis in his own. The previous Sunday night had been no exception. After waking up from their nap, the two merely lied together in silence with their arms wrapped around one another until Noctis could no longer ignore the darkness of the late evening, turning on a bedside lamp and changing into presentable clothing.

Prompto too, eventually slunk out of the haven of goose feather, silk, and Egyptian cotton, putting on casual clothes of his own (the blonde had been at the citadel so often that half of his own wardrobe was scattered across Noctis’ floor from previous weekends together) before being driven home by Ignis. After sharing a lovely dinner at the small, chipped, dull wooden table of his parents, the three had done the dishes due to their own personal lack of servants, retiring to bed early. Prompto knew himself well enough, however, to assume that no amount of sleep would undo the acclamation needed to adjust to his own bed once more, thus leaving him completely exhausted throughout the school day.

“I guess it makes sense why Prompto wasn’t at school on Friday, was he at the ceremony with you?”

“Uh…”

“Are you and Lady Lunafreya, like, _really_ friends?”

“Uhh…”

“I think you’ve finally broken Noctis, Aelia…” Philo laughs, Noctis setting down his water-filled thermos _(“Honestly, Noct, you should really start drinking more water…”_ Prompto warned him sympathetically over the weekend, Noctis finding it interesting how much more convincing Prompto could be than Ignis), though he turns in the direction of an unimpressed scoff sounding from the corner.

“You really think this asshole’s got what it takes to even hold a lighter to his Father? The day King Regis steps down from the throne is the day I up and move outta this sinking ship,”

“Oh boy, here we go…” Noctis groans and Maximus’ haughty words. “And to think it’s been a good few weeks since I’ve had to hear your mouth…”

“Mine’ll be the only one you hear, Caelum, considerin’ I’m the only one not garglin’ your balls --- didn’t any of you even see what that ceremony did?! It’s got Niff attention and Magitek engines aimed right at our doorsteps!” Maximus snaps. “Noctass ain’t even King yet and he’s already getting this place blown up---“

“ _Noctass, really_?” Noctis coos, Prompto snoring softly as he misses the scene entirely.

“Dude, _chill,_ Max…” a tall, lanky student named Euclid looks up over his basketball magazine at the bulky brunette before returning to it quickly.

“So I’m the only one who’s seein’ this?! Looks like you guys are gonna have Nif _and_ royal family dick heads spillin’ out of your asses if you gobble Caelum cock more than you already are,” Maximus snaps, Noctis remaining silent and turning red as a faint “Pff, as if I’d mind…” quietly escapes the lips of someone surrounding his desk.

“Then again, I dunno how there can be any of Noctis’ micro prick left to munch on when fuckin’ Prompto gags on it enough for the whole class ---“

“All I hear is you asking me to schedule you another appointment for a nose job, Maximus,” Noctis warns, leaning back on his chair’s hind legs, staring up at the ceiling. Their classmates watch them quietly, though attempt to stay focused on their own activities. “I don’t even hear ya denyin’ it,” Maximus smirks, walking toward Noctis and the sleeping blonde and slamming a thick newspaper down on Noctis’ desk so hard that Prompto jumps, rubbing his forehead as he slowly wakes up from his cat nap. “Not that denyin’ it would do you any good at this point,”

“The hell is this shit?” Noctis sneers, unfurling the rolled up newspaper, _the Galahd Gazette_ , brow furrowed, though his angry expression slowly morphs into one of surprise as he reads the headline:

**_The Prince and the Pauper: Is Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum Involved in a Secret Homosexual Love Affair With a Classmate?_ **

_Many rumors have surrounded the Crown Prince of Lucis, Noctis Lucis Caelum (pictured above at last Friday’s Debutante Ceremony, 17, hand in hand with Lady Lunafreya, Princess of Tenebrae, 21). The young prince’s introverted disposition and brief list of official public appearances do little to dispel the strange rumors surrounding the mysterious prince (See October 18 th’s issue, Is Crown Prince Noctis the Fulfiller of the One True King Prophecy? For details)._

_The senior at Insomnia Municipal High School was once a student of the First through Eighth year Lucian Friends Country Day School, a private school on the outskirts of the Crown City reserved for Insomnia’s elite. For high school, Noctis and his family opted for three years of home schooling before allowing the prince to conclude his formal education at a public school. Homework loads must not be enough, as the sheltered and rarely seen young prince has been doing more than staging his debut as a royal. Based on the photos below (cont. page 3)_

Noctis ignores the pictures briefly, looking to read the article to the end before doubling back.

_We see that Prince Noctis and the Mysterious Blonde clearly have plenty of free time to expend with one another. “His name is Prompto [last name redacted for identity protection purposes], he goes to our school,” a verified classmate of Noctis’, who wishes to remain anonymous, exposed exclusively to our reporters when they visited the school the day of the ceremony last Friday. “They’re always together, Prompto and Noctis,” another classmate shared. “I’m pretty sure Noctis is planning on gifting him a brand new car on his eighteenth birthday,”_

_“Yeah, my friend saw the car. Apparently it’s dark green with a chocobo on the hood, because Prompto likes chocobos,”_

“Uhh…spoiler warning, I guess? That gift’s gonna be real hard for me to top there, bud!” Prompto asks Noctis nervously, who shakes his head, reading without further commentary.

_“They’re both in the same Senior class seminar. They always eat lunch together, sit next to each other in class, and even get picked up from school together!” a junior boy who wishes to remain anonymous explained. Whether or not these are rumors or truth is up to the discretion of our readers to assess._

_Even if questions of who the Mysterious Blonde is are answered, that does not answer questions of who he is exactly to the Prince of Lucis. “I’m pretty sure they’re dating,” a tenth grader offered our reporter generously. “You’ll see them go into closets, and moaning will come out of them until they step out twenty minutes later,”_

“Holy shit…” Noctis blanches completely, re-reading the line multiple times, praying he had merely become temporarily illiterate. “That’s not even true in the slightest! You --- you and I --- we don’t --- we’ve never been in any closets --- we’ve never done anything like that --- we never would ---“

_“I’ve definitely seen Prompto smack Noctis’ ass on more than one occasion, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were banging,”_

Prompto face palms at the small kernel of truth, his sweat nearly turning into steam, he is so red.

_“I heard Noctis was planning on proposing to Prompto at Spring Festival. They’re graduating and turning eighteen this year, so Noctis is planning on having Prompto marry him. My mom says The Six will smite Noctis and Prompto because the Royal Family is supposed to be composed of a King and Queen, not King and King,“ (for our readers who have been out of high school for longer than others, the Spring Festival is an end of year celebration held at the school with various activities and games. “It is certainly not a romantic or sexual affair, nor is the press ever traditionally invited, no matter how esteemed our guests may be,” Headmaster Julius informed our journalists sternly)_

_“I heard Prompto punched Lady Lunafreya in the mouth at the ceremony’s after party because she was grinding on Noctis. Then he was dragged out of the castle in handcuffs,”_

_Writers at the Galahd Gazette are consistently taking tips, hints, and leaks regarding Prince Noctis and the Royal Family. Please send your pictures, records, and personal accounts to our headquarters with the subject headline, “Re: Noctis Gay High School Romance”_

“Prom…” is all Noctis can utter as he flips back to the pictures, his eyes travelling quickly between a set of blurry creep shots and their captions that dot an entire centerfold of the paper.

_Noctis on Invictus Street in conversation with Mysterious Blonde, coffees in hand. Sent in by Anonymous Reader, January 19 th._

_Noctis at the Promenade with Mysterious Blonde, smiling seductively as he swipes his card (could the bag contain a lover’s gift for Valentine’s Day?). Sent in by Anonymous Reader, February 14 th._

_Noctis sharing a plate of fries with the Mysterious Blonde at Kenny Crow’s Diner, 64 th West Street, Downtown Insomnia. Sent in by Anonymous Reader, December 29th._

_Noctis and Mysterious Blonde arm in arm with Mysterious Blonde’s head on Noctis’ shoulder, watching the clock strike midnight on New Year’s Eve, Downtown Insomnia. Sent in by Anonymous Reader, December 31 st._

_Noctis and Mysterious Blonde standing suspiciously close to one another at a quarter dispensing machine at the Viridi Agro Video Game Arcade, January 3 rd._

_Noctis and Mysterious Blonde thrashing at a Monster Truck Rally, Spiran Bank Arena, Downtown Insomnia. Sent in by Anonymous Reader, March 12 th._

_Noctis carrying Mysterious Blonde upon his shoulders in a park in Insomnian neighborhood Alta Semita. Sent in by Helena Agrippina, March 14 th._

“That’s my fucking neighbor’s name, dude!” Prompto whispers, the blonde’s knuckles white as he grips the other page anxiously alongside his friend. Yet Prompto grows breathless, Noctis using all of his strength to tear himself away from the article long enough to check on his friend’s sudden panicked state. “What’s up, Prom?!”

“Dude, those --- those are my pictures…”

_Shirtless Noctis with Mysterious Blonde’s arms around his neck at Aventinus Lake, Lucis. Sent in by Galahd Gazette staff, April 3 rd._

_Mysterious Blonde taking snapchat dog filter selfie within the Royal Family’s Citadel with Noctis in background. Sent in by Galahd Gazette staff, April 3 rd._

_Noctis holding Mysterious Blonde in his arms bridal style at school event. Sent in by Galahd Gazette staff, April 3 rd._

_Selfie of Noctis and Mysterious Blonde in bed, cuddled with each other. Sent in by Galahd Gazette staff, April 3 rd._

_The reporters behind this article would like to extend a special thank you to the various leads who made this article possible. For further details on this exclusive story, please consider a daily subscription to the Galahd Gazette with payments made to ---_

Noctis slams the paper against the desk in disbelief, Prompto so unsettled his hands holding his camera are shaking as he nervously goes through his gallery --- his thousands of photos intact and untouched. “How did they get my photos, Noct?! I --- I wouldn’t --- I would never --- I didn’t---!”

“Calm down, Prom, I know…” Noctis mumbles, the two still keenly observed by a handful of their classmates. “What’s the article say, Noct?” Aelia asks curiously, Maximus and his friends clutching their stomachs.

“We’ll be on the mailing lists for the porno you guys’ll eventually put out, right?!” They laugh after Prompto, who dashes out of the classroom, camera in hand. Noctis chooses to ignore the whisper of _“I’d watch the hell outta that, though…”_ from a unknown classmate on his own way out of the door, Maximus and his friends jumping and instantly ceasing their laughter as Noctis pretends to motion toward them aggressively, glaring at them for a handful of seconds before following his friend.

“How long until everyone in the _whole world’s_ read that shit, dude?!” Prompto asks breathlessly in the empty hallway, Noctis’ stomach clenching from the sad realization that Prompto, as an otherwise entirely unsuspecting civilian save for his allegedly close _relations_ with the Prince, had no practice with hot topic, tabloid exposure as the Royal Family. Scathing rumors over the years contributed partially to why Noctis had spent such little un-coached, spontaneous time outside if he could help it --- until Prompto, as it were.

“I know you’re gonna hate me for my answer, but hear me out, Prom,” Noctis places a caring set of hands on the blonde’s shoulders, holding his shaking frame steady. “Just ignore it,”

“Uh, hello?! My name is all over the Kingdom of Lucis as your _bang blondie_! My image, _our images_ , _my pictures_!” Prompto retorts in loud panic, Noctis shushing him and shaking him softly. “Okay --- as for who got ahold of your photo library, we _won’t_ ignore that part,” Noctis adds quickly. “But look, I have a lot of practice with this sort of thing. You saw where it was a Galahd Gazette exclusive, right?”

“Yeah…” Prompto squeaks.

“That means no other papers have access to either the scoop, the story, or the images, which means the rumors are nowhere near as widespread as you think. The Galahd Gazette is tabloid trash anyway. Ignis taught me when I was young to watch my words to them as it is. The only reason why we heard about the article is because Maximus’ mom is from Galahd. She probably has a subscription to her native city’s newspaper so she can keep ‘up-to-date’ on what’s goin’ on over there, as much as you can with that trash,”

“I guess…”

“If we make a big scene, then everyone’ll think this shit is true if they see us scrambling to cover it up or panic,” Noctis explains calmly, Prompto’s gaze cast nervously to the floor. _“Maybe if you were better at lying, Noct…”_ he mentally groans.

“I mean, all of those pictures are pretty _clear_ and look pretty convincing dude…” Prompto blushes at the fact, for the two appeared awfully compromising to those who were not familiar with their unorthodox dynamic.

“If people ask, just say _‘those pictures are photoshops’_ , or _‘do you know how easy it is for a teenager feeling important from the newspaper to make up a rumor about a prince and his friend for fifteen minutes of fame?’_ Stuff like that,”

“You’re such an ass liar though, how long until our cover’s blown…?!”

“Uh, Prom? Unless you have some serious confessions to make, I don’t think we’re lying about _not_ going into broom closets and fucking each other’s brains out,” Noctis snaps, Prompto nodding nervously.

“You got me there,”

“Look, if there’s one thing Iggy’s really taught me to be good at, it’s blowing people off, Prom…” Noctis tries to smile, bringing a hand to wipe silent tears that begin to flow freely from Prompto’s bloodshot blue eyes.

“But…the pictures…the quotes may be a little…fabricated,” Prompto hiccups, sniffing and continuing. “But those pictures were definitely real, and of us, and somehow, someone got my own pictures and sent them to the newspaper…”

“ _That_ part is what bothers me more than anything,” Noctis folds his arms. “Why or how, or _who,_ even, would get ahold of your camera and send those pictures to a newspaper agency?”

“I dunno. I only show you my pics, Noct. I put up some prints at Amelia’s, but I don’t even have an Instagram or anything. My photography has always been really private to me…but I bet Headmaster Julius is gonna have a real stern talking to me about my Spring Festival thanks to the negative press,” Prompto shakes his head. It wasn’t fair how many details the article writer had managed to successfully accrue, mixing them in with scathing rumors that made Prompto’s hair curl; while he certainly _wished_ the pictures captured factual snippets of the love story the article implied existed, he could not say he felt entirely comfortable with the sexually explicit nature of many of the rumors.

He found Noctis to be undeniably handsome, and even found himself in constant admiration of his figure, even before his feelings developed past merely being platonic. He certainly longed to kiss him, deeply and slowly, and there was no mistaking the way he adored everything about his best friend, constantly wishing to be as physically close to the one he loved at all times. Yet still --- he grows pale and numb at the thought of _truly_ crossing such personal boundaries with the prince, surveying each other’s vulnerability and exposed, naked bodies, exploring one another in such a passionate and intimate way.

Prompto had never shied away from masturbating over women. He was relatively secure with himself sexually since his weight loss, having understood his anatomy and the anatomy of the opposite sex, his personal likes and dislikes. Although the blonde was nerdy, shy, and consciously oblivious, there was no denying puberty had treated him well.

He was no stranger to attention from attractive girls. He’d received many notes from crushes over the years, and he is certain his fanclub of junior girls will be emotionally devastated, what with the news of his postponed track career and his alleged sexual relationship with Noctis surfacing in the same month.

He’d had various short, summer flings with a girl at a photography camp he attended regularly every summer, the two of them having gone so far as feeling one another’s aroused bodies underneath their clothes as they kissed passionately --- yet this was the extent of Prompto’s sexual experience with anyone other than his hand at late hours of the night.

He could not even think of _how_ two men would go about such a physical act, Prompto attempting to focus on Noctis’ moving lips and matching them to the words he barely processes. _“Do they --- where do they put it? Who does what?”_ Prompto wonders, for the age old method of ‘penis-in-vagina’ had been all he had ever truly fantasized about. _“Would I even want to go into a closet with Noct to --- to do that?! How would we even do it?!”_ Prompto wonders, realizing with a sudden jolt of adrenaline that while images of _the closet_ did little to inspire his lascivious side, they wander instead to thoughts of Noctis’ bed, the citadel empty and his bedroom door locked, with little chance of disruption. Prompto envisions Noctis straddling him, breathless and dark with desire, running their hands underneath each other’s shirts before bringing them to undo the buttons of each other’s pants ---

“You listening?” Noctis asks casually, Prompto nodding breathlessly as he shakes his thoughts away as vigorously as possible, glowing vividly as he darts his eyes to avoid staring at the door of a janitor’s closet.

“Yeah…”

“Look, like I said, we’ll get to the bottom of who got ahold of your pictures, but just, don’t panic, continue as normal, and everything will sort itself out. _I promise_. No one reads that tabloid rag, and they run a scandal story on a new celebrity every week,” Noctis assures him, clapping his still red cheeks a couple of times as the bell sounds and students fill the halls. “Oh, and don’t tell Ignis. I _really_ don’t wanna have to deal with Iggy,”

* * *

 

“I absolutely cannot believe this,” Ignis barks, hands on his hips as he glares down at the crinkled newspaper that rests innocently against a small marble table.

“Well, uh, I should _hope_ you can’t…” Noctis replies, Prompto pacing around the sitting room in a slow circle, scratching his head.

“Thing is? We _really_ were kinda hoping you weren’t gonna see it, to be honest…” Prompto nervously adds, laughing heartily despite finding the situation anything but funny.

“How could we not?! Your father and I were up all night scanning the newspapers for their reactions toward the ceremony and Niflheim’s threats, and suffice to say, _this_ article is the one your father lingered on the most,” Ignis glares at Noctis authoritatively over his glasses.

 _“Dad read it?!”_ Noctis asks disbelievingly, Prompto, too, bringing his face sheepishly into his hands. “He knows it’s not true, right?!”

“Of course he knows his son is not buying his best friend cars, nor making love to him in broom cupboards, but I happened to know that he saw the photos and was _quite_ surprised at how _suggestive_ the two of you can look, whether you know it or not,”

“Being honest, you two definitely had this article written, drafted, and nearly ready for the press,” Gladio mumbles.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Noctis asks calmly, though there is no mistaking the underlying sass in his voice.

“You two’ve _got_ to work on not making your personal photos with one another look like twink porno covers…” Ignis suggests sternly, Noctis nearly falling out of the armchair to immediately retort with “How do you know what twink porno covers look like?!”, Prompto bringing his hand to his mouth as his snort turns into a laugh he can’t help but let slip.

“Sorry, Ig, you set yourself up for it,” Gladio chuckles too, the man curling his lips, thoroughly unamused. “I am serious, Noct. You too, Prompto. This is not the way to start off your own adult reputation as monarch, and this is most unbecoming of a boy looking to get into a prestigious art school,”

“People are gonna write what they’re gonna write. You’re just lucky it’s the Gazette publishing it, no one in a thousand years would ever believe anything they say. What Ignis and I do mean for you two to learn from this is to be constantly aware of who could be watching and when. You two can get a little unaware of your surroundings when it comes to some of the moments you share,” Gladio suggests, Noctis furrowing his brow.

“ _Moments_?”

“You and Prompto can be quite handsy for two young men who are never seen spending time with others,” Ignis adds, Noctis growing silent. He certainly could not contradict either of their warnings when photographic evidence was clearly on their side, and for every captured moment of closeness existed a thousand more questionable scenarios the two had enjoyed with one another that did _not_ make it onto Prompto’s camera roll.

Noctis turns to steal a look at Prompto, who stands with his back to the rest of them, looking out the window introspectively.

“How’s your foot been by the way, Prom?” Ignis asks, Noctis welcoming the brief change of subject.

“Fine…still a little sore to walk on, but the cut’s healed…I’ll start running again next week…all thanks to Gladio…”

“I wasn’t just gonna let you hobble along!” Gladio smiles, though he catches Noctis’ own melancholy stare at his pensive friend.

“I suppose I ought to get to the kitchens, _Bertha’s back from vacation_ …”

“Actually, Ig, if you don’t mind stayin’ here, I’m gonna have Noct help me rearrange the dojo for a few minutes before lunch,” Gladio says with a knowing message in his voice that only Ignis understands, the advisor jumping with sudden realization.

“Ah, yes…” he nods; upon reading the article, Gladio and Ignis had both thought it best to discuss Prompto’s feelings with the blonde himself, deciding that Ignis would be the best one for such a discussion, as he was the one to initially overhear the confession. “Go on then, Noct --- though know this conversation isn’t over,”

“It never is,” Noctis smirks despite it all, stealing one last look over at Prompto before he walks out with Gladio, who brings a heavy hand to his shoulder as the two leave the sitting room mid-sentence with one another.

“…Prompto, have you got a moment?” Ignis starts after a quiet few seconds, Prompto turning away from the window, his features blank, soft, thoughtful.

“Yeah, Iggy, of course…”

Ignis clears his throat, sitting on the arm of an armchair, his mind buzzing with the blueprint he mentally forges on just how to breach the conversation he wishes to cover in what would probably be one of the few isolated moments they would share.

“I just have a few questions, about the article…”

“I dunno who wrote it, or why, and I dunno who took those pictures, or how they got ahold of my _own_ , and the stuff about us being together and uh, _having sex_ , I guess, isn’t true…”

“I know all that, now,” Ignis replies in surprise at the tumbling defense Prompto offers. “I suppose the questions I’ve got are tangentially related,”

“Uh, okay…lay them on me…”

“We all know the content of the article to be untrue, and you’re very lucky that no one believes the Gazette, or else you would have reporters harassing your family right now. Apart from your less friendly classmates, I see no one making a fuss and forgetting about the article in a week,”

“That’s good…” Prompto nods. “Noct was so nonchalant about it, but I was panicking…”

“He seems nonchalant because you haven’t had the years of practice with the boy like Gladio and myself. He’s just as bothered and concerned as you. Now that you’re the subject of your own scandal, I’d like to impart on you a bit of royal advice; keep your head high, do not change how much or how you talk to Noctis at school, and casually deny any allegations should anyone ask you about them,”

“It’ll take a bit of practice, but I will, thanks, Ig,” Prompto smiles, though he quickly grows glum again. “But, being honest, I can get over the stupid rumors, but what bothers me is how they got ahold of my pictures…”

“Yes, I will gladly assist you in solving that little mystery. But the issue of the pictures actually brings me back to my point,” Ignis removes his glasses, bracing himself; once confronting Prompto with his feelings, there was no going back. “I know about your feelings toward the prince,”

Prompto turns around sharply, his blue eyes glassy and wavering as they attempt to focus on Ignis, the young man shocked in silent disbelief. “No…” he slowly shakes his head, backing away from Ignis, who sits with his forehead still resting in his hands. “H-How---?!”

“I promise it was not intentional; I got up the other night for a small midnight snack, and sadly overheard your conversation with Luna at an inopportune time,”

“I promise, I --- I’m not trying to --- the article ---“

“Calm down Prompto ---“

“Are you the only one who knows?” Prompto whispers, Ignis crestfallen as he wipes his glasses on the corner of his shirt and places them back on his face, noting the devastation on the face of Noctis’ best friend with distinct, unmissable clarity.

“…Gladio knows,” Ignis admits after a few seconds’ hesitation, Prompto shaking his head wildly once more.

“But neither of us would every betray you and tell Noctis himself,” Ignis assures him gently. “Even before I overheard your conversation with Lady Lunafreya, I must admit the two of us have been able to tell for quite some time…”

“What do you mean?!” Prompto groans, Ignis extending a hand towards the blonde as he grips tightly in his hair from stress.

“You two have a very unique way of going about your relationship that, to the outsider looking in, as you see in your photos, it would come as absolutely no surprise to anyone if you told them the two of you were much more than friends,”

“ _I’m trying as hard as I can to make it stop_ ,” Prompto insists, his voice shaking.

“Make what stop, exactly?”

“The --- _everything_ \--- the way we always want to be alone, the way we can’t go an hour without talking or being around one another, the way I feel about him ---!“ Prompto is cut short as he hisses a sob through his teeth, his shoulders shaking as he brings his gaze to the ground.

“Calm down, now…” Ignis starts, walking toward Prompto with his hands in his pockets and pulling out a clean handkerchief.

“I know how it looks, I _know_ ,” Prompto blows into the rag, wiping moisture off his face with the back of his hand. “And the thing is, maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad if it were true. Maybe this fucking article wouldn’t hurt so much if it really _was_ how it seems…but it’s not, and I know it has to stop. Even if Noctis ever _did_ feel the same way about me in a thousand years, it can’t ever be that way, and I know that,” Prompto finishes with stern resolve, Ignis sighing sadly.

“I’m merely relieved you realize this…” Ignis awkwardly confirms Prompto’s assumption.

“I know, you guys probably hate me…” Prompto starts again. “I try so hard to pretend like I haven’t had these feelings since the beginning, but cat’s outta the bag now, I guess…I’m not royalty. I’m a burden. I need rides, I need training, I need protecting. All I do is distract Noctis. I get him written about in trashy magazines, I give his father heart attacks, I steal his attention away from his legacy, from school, I get him to skip, I distract him---“

“And you also make him the happiest I have ever known the prince to be in his entire life!” Ignis starts firmly, his voice strong in both conviction and volume. “While you seem to understand that your feelings will need to come to an end sooner rather than later, also know that Noctis is responsible for his own actions. He is older than you, and has been well aware, since a very young age, of what his lineage entrusts upon him. Should he choose to skip, or text you until two in the morning, or neglect his tomes in favor of carrying you around the city, that is his conscious decision for which he must eventually come to face consequences.

You’re a lovely, kind, and caring young man; you’ve never used Noctis, us, or his luxuries for your own benefit, it has never been a question to us that you care deeply for us all as people and not as shoulders that can be rubbed. None of us are upset at you, Prompto, neither for this article, nor for what your relationship with Noctis has developed into, and we would never ask you to leave. You may be Noctis’ best friend, but you’re one of us. We’ve come to enjoy the presence of you and your family within the castle. King Regis himself cherishes you, but I also need to warn you: You two have very unique interactions and I suggest keeping them private,”

“More than private, Ignis, they have to _stop_ ,” Prompto reiterates. “It’s to the point where, after graduation, I _know_ I have to go away,”Prompto bites his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering. “If I don’t, articles like this will get worse. Noct’ll never become the king he’s meant to be if he’s too busy taking naps with me in his bed and texting me until five am, and faking sprained ankles so he can skip training and face time me instead ---“

“Is that a tactic of his?!” Ignis asks in disgust, though he chooses to save such a confrontation for Noctis later as he reads the distress on Prompto’s face.

“As his best friend, and as someone who loves him, I’m leaving him for Lestallum at the beginning of the summer. Before you need to scold me about our recklessness and how our relationship is driving a wedge between him and his responsibilities, know that I know that…”

“Does Noctis know?”

“Nothing. None of this,”

“You do know Noctis has been begging his father and I to allow him to move out of the castle after graduation?!”

“He’s already tried to tell me he was going to find something to study at Lestallum ---“

“No, he has his eyes on an admittedly very nice luxury apartment that overlooks the entire city; he also hopes to have you as his roommate, though merely in name --- he would naturally shoulder the costs…”

“And it can’t happen ---“ Prompto swallows, folding his arms and turning back around to look out the window.

“He’ll be most disappointed, Prince Noctis is entirely too used to getting what he wants; it’s definitely a blame I place partially on myself,” Ignis’ small smile falters at Prompto’s silence. As much as he resented having to bring up such a heavy topic, it was necessary.

“And you promise not to tell Noct about any of this? I want my last few months with him to be as peaceful as possible,” Prompto begs, Ignis shaking his head quietly. “Pretty soon my capacity for such secrets will be at my limit. I am here for you both, both as your friend, advisor, and support system, but know I am not a diary,” Ignis warns, Prompto nodding stoically, having missed the deadpan sarcasm in Ignis’ voice he had meant to be humorous.

“…Thanks, Iggy. Now I feel bad for ruining all your dates with Cindy,” Prompto offers him a red-faced, teary eyed smile.

“I suppose you can try your luck with her --- I imagine she’d be much more your type… Lovely, beautiful girl, just I suppose I’m much more of a quiet soul than herself…”

“As if she’d ever even give me the time of day…” Prompto chuckles, wishing fondly the extent of his heartbreak could be as simple as a crush on Cindy once was. “Honestly, _Luna_ …” Prompto sighs. “She’s a woman I’d love to get to know, take out to dinner…” Prompto sighs. “But I guess I just have a winning streak, if anyone’s more duty-bound and busy twenty four seven, it’s her --- doesn’t help that Noctis has a thing for her, too, and I sure as hell wouldn’t wanna get in the way of that…guess I have a type,” Prompto tries his hardest to smile as Gladio and Noctis come back in, covered head to toe in sweat, sharing a breathless joke with one another and laughing hysterically.

* * *

 

“I can tell by your expression that you are growing restless, Your Highness, but I must implore you to try on this size,” the Lucian Family tailor, an old, hunched man, wheezes, handing the prince another suit.

“This is like, the ninth suit today, and graduation isn’t for another three weeks…can’t we just save some for this weekend?!” Noctis stops himself from rolling his eyes, instantly reigning in his attitude as he catches a stern, silent look from his weary, heavily bearded father. The dusty old suit shop the three of them stand in is musty, sweltering in early May heat. Heaps of multi-colored suits of various fabrics tower atop each other in mounds that looked unsorted and untouched. The old tailor’s shifting past his chaos swells up a visible, golden brown cloud of dust that causes Noctis to expel a violent sneeze.

The black shop is dank with a mildewy smell that mixes unpleasantly with the creeping heat, Noctis already light-headed due to the lack of ventilation and the various layers that adorn his body. He tried to match his father in his expressionless exterior, the older Caelum of the two of them seemingly unphased by the dingy discomfort of the shop.

“I would, Prince Noctis, but after retiring last year, I’m afraid I only open this shop at the behest of the King himself ---“

“You owe my son no explanation, Hadrian. We are both grateful for your ability to commit a late afternoon to us, and my son owes you an apology for his disrespect,” Regis snaps, the distaste in his voice clearly aimed more toward his son than Hadrian, the tailor.

“Forgive me for my lack of manners, sir…” Noctis bows quietly before taking the pile of garments he holds in his hand and slipping into a dressing room, pulling the curtain for privacy (he coughs violently from another dust storm). There was no denying Hadrian the tailor was brilliant; the family itself had been in charge of designing and assembling family formalwear for generations, back when such staff served amongst the King’s Royal Court. While his father aged to a point of poignant visibility, Hadrian too, seemed to slip into madness.

There was no denying he still had a way about a needle and thread, but the state of the once well-kept shop was the most obvious sign of the old man’s waning health. Noctis takes out his phone before snapping a flattering selfie of himself in the black, form fitting, slim suit, instantly typing a caption to his best friend.

_Ninth graduation suit of the day, this is my fav so far ;)_

He tucks the phone in his suit pocket before stepping out before the two men and modelling it accordingly.

“Needs to be altered a bit in the hips ---, a couple inches taken off the legs as well,”

“Yes, Your Majesty…”

“I shall have Ignis ready to pick it up this Friday at noon, shall the alterations be finished by then?”

“Absolutely, King Regis…”

“Wonderful. Noctis, what say you to the suit?”

“Uh, it’s nice…” he adds, nodding curtly in an effort to stifle the cough that tickles his throat.

“You must speak up in earnest, Noctis, you will be in the suit all throughout the graduation ceremony and after party; not to mention your speech…”

“A man of few words, your son, the prince,” Hadrian crackles as he simply goes to strip the suit off Noctis with little warning, the prince restraining all of his reflexes to not push him into a mountain of dusty suits.

“You should see him with his _friend,_ he talks a mile a minute,” Regis adds.

“Pants off, boy!” Hadrian snaps, Noctis furrowing his brow in irritation as he strips himself of the trousers, tossing them to him quickly before finding those of his school uniform.  He sighs down at his phone, Prompto still having left his snapchat both unwatched and unanswered. The blonde had been scrambling with the rest of his student council committee to prepare the final touches of the Spring Festival, which was due to have its opening night on Friday, a mere three days away. To Prompto’s credit, he had warned his best friend that _“things are going to be getting a little cray cray on my end, and I might need some space unless you wanna see what it’s like being on the receiving end of one of your attitudes,”_ , the blonde winking as he gave Noctis’ cheek a few taps before running off, massive binders in hand.

Still, Noctis had held up his promise from months ago at the lake: he’d helped plan a face painting booth, even managing to secure various student volunteers to man it. He’d also managed to hold a fundraising gala for the blonde at the citadel, raising five thousand Lucians to add to the budget --- a gift that resulted in Prompto lacing his arms around Noctis’ neck, the two embracing each other silently for hours in the privacy of Noctis’ bedroom as soon as other guests went home.

Regardless, Noctis’ dedication was more for the cause of making Prompto happy, than it was a passion for event planning. As the two found their schedules tighter and tighter, Noctis had managed to knock out the entire Cosmogony collection with the free time that arose from not spending _every_ waking moment with the blonde, usually literally.

Noctis utters a soft “thank you,” to a Glaive who opens the back seat for him, Noctis slipping into the Regalia moodily, fanning himself before the Glaive (Ignis and Gladio had taken the day off to enjoy lunch with one another) starts the engine and the air conditioning blasts. Regis enters his car through the passenger seat, grunting into the leather at the respite from standing. Noctis’ stomach churns at the sound, sounds of his father’s mortality causing him to retreat wordlessly into his phone.

It buzzes almost as if on cue, Noctis instantly tapping Prompto’s snapchat in response.

 _All black may not be the brightest idea in late May, Noct ;P_ the caption reads, Prompto shrugging handsomely, various papers, along with Aelia and a few other student council students photobombing in the background.

“Hey dad…” Noctis whispers, looking up from his phone, knowing his has his father’s attention due to the fatigued “Hrm?” he utters in response. “You --- you still have room in your calendar to come to Prompto’s festival, right?” he nearly whispers, holding down his thumb to repeat the nine second image of his photogenic friend’s smile with the caption of _Miss you_.

“I don’t have the energy to discuss it right now, Noctis,” Regis groans shortly, Noctis closing his eyes and leaving it at that. The closer they drew to his high school graduation --- and therefore his Coronation Ceremony in August, the less patience and energy Regis had for business in general. He also was engaged in constant, diligent talks with the Niflheim Empire, who’d still not reached an agreement regarding Noctis’ Covenant with the Oracle in March. Regis had even gone so far so as to rely on his brace and cane once more, the grey hairs of his beard turned white, the strength of his voice turned drained.

Noctis exits the Regalia stiffly, walking ahead of his father up the marble stairs as he slings his uniform jacket and briefcase over his shoulder. He could certainly say he had put in the effort to be a better son and future king, having mastered all of his swords, lances, and daggers according to Gladio’s recent time tables, having maintained perfect grades as per Ignis’ schedule, and even having sat through an entire briefing with the Galahd government (the premises from which the Galahd Gazette was explicitly banned, as it was later revealed that it was a particularly wily reporter who had managed to access Prompto’s digital photo library through a personal Storage Cloud) without once yawning or complaining. He missed his best friend, the blue eyed, freckled social butterfly who’d always seen to it that Noctis looked forward to more than just whatever regal obligation awaited him that day.

The two kept in regular contact with Luna through Umbra, who shared with Noctis the stunning pictures of the woman, taken by his talented best friend. She confessed her own sadness at having to miss Prompto’s special event, but promised to appear in some form of support at their graduation ceremony. The Niflheim Empire had kept a keen eye on the Oracle since her pilgrimage throughout Lucis following their Covenant.

“Your Highness!” a Glaive calls hurriedly, Noctis turning to face him in a rush of nervousness. “Your Father has just received word that the Chancellor of Niflheim awaits you both in the throne room,” he nods, Noctis sharing a concerned look with his already informed father, who rushes past him in a sudden wave of renewed energy.

“Where does this guy get off on showing up without warning?!” Noctis asks as he sprints slightly to keep up with his father, who pushes him gently backward. “Stay out of this, Noctis---“

“No dad, I’m coming with you,” Noctis challenges his father’s stern gaze, Regis relenting without a word as he merely proceeds down the long hallway toward his throne room. The doors part in deafening splendor as father and son approach the eccentric, purple-haired man, who reacts to their entrance as if he were merely a friend waiting on another to meet him at a pre-determined location.

“What have I done to be blessed with both the King and his strapping young Prince of a son?” he asks with a flamboyance to an otherwise empty hall, his voice ringing devilishly off the high ceilings at a frequency that gives Noctis shivers.

“ _Cold_ , Your Highness? How can a man possibly catch chills in such warm, warm weather?” Ardyn asks in a softer voice, Glaives rushing swiftly to accompany both Noctis and Regis on either side as they walk up the curved steps that lead to his father’s seat. “Surely the exciting heat of your impending graduation courses through your supple body?”

“Watch how you address my son, the _Crown Prince_ of this Kingdom, Chancellor Izunia,” Regis warns with such ferocity that Noctis is certain his lion’s air of bravery is reduced to that of merely a cub. “What business do you have showing up unannounced and unaccompanied at my home?”

“Come, now…can’t a man merely be tired of all the _bickering_ between our two kingdoms? Especially right before your son blossoms into a man?” Ardyn turns about the throne room before casting his hazel eyes directly toward Noctis.

“Where _ever_ is your pretty little blonde friend?” he shakes his head, his lips folding into an insincere frown. “ _Normally_ the two of you are not to be seen without the other,”

“State your business!” Regis repeats, Ardyn tisking and wagging his finger.

“I have travelled far and arduously wide to behold your counsel, dear King Regis, to merely say my piece only to turn right back around would be a waste of the day’s journey it took to see you face to face…” Ardyn laments, taking Regis’ cold silence as an invitation to continue his monologue. “We are approaching our _second_ month of talks since our brave Noctis’ vow to _Banish the Darkness_ , and I thought, what with the spirit of good tiding that comes with _graduations_ and _birthdays_ and _coronations_ , I would reiterate one last time that neither you, nor your son, nor the Oracle, have rescinded their statements,”

“I fear that if you travelled all this way to remind us of something so commonly known already within these halls, the entirety of your effort was done so in utmost folly,” Regis’ hands grip the skulls that crown the armrests of his throne.

“No, Your Majesty; what you should truly fear is that this message is the final notice to get posted on your Kingdom’s door before the landlord comes to collect his due --- and surely _Prince Noctis_ does not want his last summer with his special blonde ruined?” Ardyn’s eyes glitter as they meet Noctis’, who glares at their unwanted guest in repulsion.

“You will take your threats back with you to your Emperor, Izunia. You will not bully anything out of either myself or my son. Off with you!” Regis roars, Ardyn closing his eyes and shaking his head solemnly.

“That I shall, Your Majesty. I take it your lack of invitation to lodge here before taking my day long leave back to Niflheim is not an act of forgetfulness on your clearly aging part…” Ardyn almost sings, being guided out by two Glaives.  “It would be such a shame for your son to spend his final youthful summer picking up the slack of your failing wall, as both you and it fall apart around the Kingdom of Lucis…”

Regis digs a hand into the fabric of Noctis’ blazer, holding the silently furious young man back with an arm steeled in its own rage.

“We shall be in touch, but being a man of decency, I will at least allow you and your family the courtesy of a peaceful end to the school year; no one likes too many distractions during Finals --- I bid you a lovely evening, O Sons of Light! Give that delicious meathead of a bodyguard of yours my greetings, and the bespectacled one a hello from me as well; And know my mention of your _special blonde_ was in no way a reference toward the lovely Oracle of Tenebrae, Prince Noctis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'm not moving too quickly in terms of plot progression, I wonder nervously as I post another chapter that brings this fic to upwards of 80k goddamn words.


	14. Deliverance

 

“Forgive the late hour of my arrival, my dear Iedolas; you wouldn’t _believe_ how rude the monarch of the last free Kingdom of Eos can be,” Ardyn grandiosely announces as he struts towards an elderly man, whose various thick, white robes contrast against the cold grey armor of suited generals on either side of him, their faces hidden by their ornate visors. Iedolas looks up from the map he surveys, eyeing the flamboyant chancellor; the corner of his lip is upturned in a disgusted scowl, his thick, white eyebrow threatening to conjoin with his cheek. The clock itself barely reads five pm.

“Must you always be so dramatic, Izunia?! Get to your point!” Iedolas spits, licking the skin around his dried, liverspotted lips. Ardyn lowers his widely spread arms, various articles of earth-toned clothing swinging delicately behind the motion, though his smile remains. “ _Theaters_ sell out. Political hearings do not, my dear Emperor…”

“ _Clearly_ Regis has never heard of your little show, Izunia, for your lack of the man in chains at my feet shows me he was uninspired by your _drama_ ,”

“You cannot simply rush to the climax without the other acts running their course?!” Ardyn scoffs with a disbelief not shared by either Iedolas or his generals, Verstael rolling his eyes in disgust before he continues a muttered conversation with a young blonde man who holds his visor under his arms, the younger of the two’s eyes cast nervously sideways on the almost embarrassing scene that plays out to the right of them.

“Twenty four hours ago, I stood before the King of Lucis and his son --- who I must say has grown into a fine young man --- and I barely had an audience of twenty minutes before I was sent along my way once more! Why, they did not even offer me one of their many assuredly unoccupied rooms before turning right back around on my journey…” Ardyn laments, chuckling softly at the Emperor’s unamused silence.

“No matter. Know that our last friendly warning that they retract their statements went entirely unheeded. The King explicitly requested, in fact, that I take my warnings right back to you; _here I am_!” Ardyn sprawls his arms outward once more, his square jaw stretched in a handsome, dazzlingly white smile.

 _“Is that so?!”_ Iedolas asks, stroking his snow white beard in thought, eyeing his Chancellor suspiciously.

 _“Would I lie to you?”_ Ardyn asks with a near seduction in his voice, Iedolas pointedly ignoring his comment before balling his fist and casting his narrowed, seething gaze to the floor, his shoulders hunched in aggravated tension.

“That Regis has the nerve to act so haughty whilst his strength so obviously fails him --- as deliciously admirable the crown prince’s transparent attempt at commanding even a fraction of his father’s presence may be, I see him snapping in half at the pressure of war on his dying daddy’s doorstep. I can only imagine how delicious his throes of agony would be….“

“What is this about the strength of the King?” Iedolas repeats, his loud, forceful tone cutting off his rambling Chancellor firmly.

“Oh, nothing…merely that the fall of Lucis as our full power arrives on their lawn shall prove as inevitable as that of all the other countries on this miserable rock. You see, Regis grows weaker and weaker by the day, and with his son so _virginal and inexperienced_ , the Oracle under our captivity, the conscripted might of those within our Kingdom, and the Magitek Infantry, I do not see their bite being nearly as stalwart as their insistent, unwavering bark,”

Iedolas paces slightly, Verstael and the blonde with whom he still converses following the Emperor’s steps with their eyes.

“You know what’s _funny_ , Verstael?” Ardyn cocks his head in mock thought, gaining the attention of the other two. “General Loqi bears an awfully striking resemblance to that forgotten son of yours --- who seems to have grown very close to the Prince of Lucis, might I add…”

The general known as Loqi appears offended to have been acknowledged by the monologing Chancellor, Verstael, too, grimacing at Ardyn, the only man in the room who finds humor in the conversation they forcibly share.

“I have no son,” is all Verstael replies with, a distinct venom in his gravelly voice doing much to imply that further quips regarding the General’s personal matters were highly unappreciated. Ardyn briefly tisks before turning back the Emperor, closing his eyes solemnly, his smile ever present. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time to send for the Oracle and her brother to join us momentarily. Should Lady Lunafreya not deny her vows, I suggest we plan our opening scenes of Act Two, though do be considerate, I promised dear Regis that I would wait until after Noctis’ high school graduation before decimating what little that poor bloodline has to look forward to…”

“Loqi! Summon the Oracle and Ravus at once,” Iedolas irritably concedes, bluntly flinging a heavily robed arm in the direction of the younger blonde, showing no other signs of having heard Ardyn’s counsel. “Yes, sir…” the blonde mutters, nodding unassuredly before moving with an unexpected agility given the size of his cumbersome, dark red armor.

“If Regis is as frail as you suggest, there is thus nothing to stop me from taking the Kingdom of Lucis, and with it, that _damn_ Ring and Crystal…every country in the world under my thumb, my control…” Iedolas grins.

“Why, it almost sounds as if you are hoping the Lady Oracle stands by her promise,” Ardyn grins as he slinks behind the general, folding his arms across his chest..

“If that bitch and that boy do attempt to thwart the Darkness, there goes the entirey of Niflheim’s manpower!” Verstael growls.

“Oo, you call it _man_ power, yet it’s all Daemon, you punny man, you,” Ardyn laughs, veins in Verstael’s head nearly ready to burst as they throb against the taut skin of his wrinkled, sun spotted forehead.

“Yet alternatively, her refusal gives us the diplomatic reasonwe need to invade, and shall make our reason for total war appear justified before the people,” Iedolas gestures out the window toward the sprawling, metal metropolis hundreds of feet below.

“I suppose you must appear ever benevolent…” Ardyn mumbles, taking off his fedora out of respect as Loqi walks in stiffly with Luna and her older brother, Ravus, on his heels. “They have been summoned, my Lord,”

The sound of Luna’s white, open toed heels against the metal of the floor preceeds her arrival into the study, her head high as she maintains her gaze upon the men who turn in the form of a sloppy semi circle to await her. Ravus slowly saunters in behind her, his bright eyes squinted as his broad shoulders sway in his stride to Loqi’s side. The suspicion in his judgmental gaze throughout the room is met with stoic expectancy.

“Are you not even going to welcome me back, my Lady?” Ardyn asks in quiet dismay, bringing his hand to his chest, using his other to take Luna’s own by her thin wrist, kissing it gently. She haughtily wipes the hand against her dress, silent as she crosses her arms.

“Did you bug her in the middle of dinner or something?!” Verstael sneers at Loqi, banging his gloved fist against his wooden table, Iedolas growling before pushing Ardyn out of the way aggressively, Luna merely blinking stoically as the old man invades her personal space.

“You, girl ---!” his voice cracks in adrenaline-fueled passion, his long fingers curled as if he means to snatch at her. _“Take it back! Take it all back!”_

“I have no idea what you mean,” Luna blinks slowly, her eyes steady upon him as he paces around her menacingly, his back bowed in sinister contemplation.

“Take it back, and I will see to it your life is spared, at least, to see the Fall of Insomnia!”

“There is no need to direct aggression toward my sister!” Ravus starts, though the warning in his voice fails to carry any weight, as he instantly steps back as Loqi holds up a hand to demand his silence.

“I stand by my claims. I vow, with all my strength, to heal the sick, and assist the Prince in banishing the Plague of the Stars. You can hold me captive only temporarily; the divinity of my destiny cannot be caged,” Luna threatens. She had been detained at the Leide-Insomnia border by Magitek troopers positioned in expectation of her crossing. Amongst them, Luna had noted with a wave of devastation, her very own brother, who must have informed the Empire of her exact location. Though she expected consequences for her diplomatically risky actions, she could not have forseen repercussions against her healing efforts executed so quickly.

Where she’d hoped to stay one step ahead of the Empire, the truth of Ravus’ ultimate loyalties revealed themselves to be for the worst, even where her deepest suspiscions had confirmed them long ago. Her capture by the Empire brought her as a formal political prisoner to Emperor Iedolas’ stronghold in the heart of the Kingdom, the Royal Family of Tenebrae having been murdered a decade previous by her very captors, thus leaving no room for less drastic negotiation.

She falls to the floor as Iedolas pushes her there violently in his anger, Ravus’ eyes steeled on the men before him in an attempt to curb his desire to rush to his sister’s aid. She hardly needs it; she stands once more, cradling her elbow quietly.

“You have all opted for bloodshed,” is all Verstael utters from his dark corner.

“You have opted with open war with Gods,” Luna retorts before taking leave on her own accord and striding through the door, Ravus taking one hasty look between the four men before he runs after her.

 _“Luna, you fool!”_ he hisses, his words caught in between his gasps as he strides behind her, though his sister pays him no attention. “Do you understand what you have wrought upon the world?! Ourselves?! And for what ---?!”

“ _For what?!_ Do you really mean to ask me such a question and yet place the label of _fool_ upon me in the same breath?!” Luna’s voice loses all its bass as she balls her fist in a swell of emotion, her large, dark blue eyes flickering between his own, glassy with anger and passion. “You choose to blame me for this absurdity, when it is _you_ who is more a victim of madness than you may ever wish to ascribe me! It is _you_ who sides with our family’s murderers, the destroyers of our kingdom and its sovereignty!” Luna continues aggressively, leaning ever closer towards Ravus, whose eyes narrow viciously at his sister’s insinuations.

“I am merely biding us _time_ , Lunafreya!”

“Time for _what_?! There is no _time_ , the only thing that may come out of more _time_ is the lessening of the gap between Eternal Darkness and the peace of our world! Perhaps you mean to take me for being so moronic, that I would conflate your thinly veiled attempt at trying to hide your own selfish ambitions for caring about me and the Duties entrusted unto me,”

“With time, Luna, I can get revenge on them all!”

“I do not care for revenge, I care instead for using the burden of my own fate to protect the millions of oppressed citizens who have no control over their own,”

 “It is better to side with our enemies if we cannot beat them ---“ Ravus interjects sharply, paying no heed to Luna’s words.

“Even to the point where they openly call for the murder of the Oracle, the last Vanquisher of Darkness, your _sister_?! What good is biding time if this whole world is thrust into the depths of a Hell so deep, nothing else may possibly deliver us respite or salvation?!” if her words strike any notes within her brother, they do not show upon his face. “You are biding time for _nothing_ but your own loyalties toward those who would see the whole world ravaged by Darkness and death if only for their own gain! And for _what_?! For power?! For a chance at the ring?!”

“For revenge on those who saw our family killed! You are foolish if you believe the Prince of Lucis can stand up to even the shadow of the might of Niflheim, and you are even more foolish if you believe the Caelums to have any remorse for how their actions led to our _own_ suffering --- they are _weak_ , as they have proven long ago, and I shall never lend my sword to those traitors who watched as our family’s blood spilled on their accord,”

“Then perhaps I am indeed deserving of the label of fool, for I thought you to be better than this,” Luna snaps with finality before turning once more to stomp away.

“And what do you mean to do, Lunafreya?! What do you mean to insinuate with your assured, attempted escape?!”

“Exactly what I meant; how have you not yet taken notice of the fact that I do not mince my words?”

 _“You will go nowhere---!”_ Ravus roars, yanking his sister’s arm and motioning to throw her against the stone wall, but he is stunned as Luna smacks him heavily across the cheek, the man staggering backward in surprise as blood trickles down his cheek from the broken skin.

“Do not make to touch me unless you mean to finish it,” Luna whispers. “You claim to be the mediator and negotiator in the interest of our affairs, but I see our affairs have now diverged and I will be representing myself thus forward,” she warns, Ravus silent as the woman is finally met by robotic Magitek soldiers, who guide her down the hall toward her quarters.

“Luna can be _awfully_ rough, can she not? How I wish she would warm up to me enough to let me see just how _rough_ she can get…” Ardyn coos at the silver haired man who walks back into the study in a daze, holding his cheek.

”That is my sister you speak of,” Ravus flings droplets of blood onto the floor as he sharply flicks his wrist, flexing his arms as if he means to send a warning to the prurient Chancellor, who merely maintains his grin.

“I see no one stopping me from doing so,” Ardyn retorts coolly, Iedolas standoffishly awaiting their silence before he sighs and continues his interrupted briefing.

“…allow the Caelums to have their little graduation celebration. Then, come June, around the time of the prince’s formal coronation, we extend to them formal talks of indefinite ceasefire. We have Noctis wed to Lunafreya. It is here, during these negotiations and the wedding, that we eliminate King Regis, usurp the crystal and the ring for ourselves, and annex the Kingdom of Lucis for Niflheim once and for all…”

“And the son of Regis?” Verstael asks, hunched still over his maps.

“Kill him on sight; eliminate them all, it is time we sever the Lucian bloodline once and for all, down to their drivers and maids,”

“And of my sister? What is to become of her? For what purpose is she to be wed to Noctis?” Ravus asks in anxious, hurried cluelessness, Ardyn merely putting his fedora atop his head once more before he breaks out in highly amused laughter immediately following the silence of Iedolas, Loqi, and Verstael at Ravus’ question.

“Perhaps I’m glad I wasted no time in Lucis after all…” Ardyn laughs into his chest. “Niflheim is proving to be the much better seat for the show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, just been turnt way the fuck up and sleeping off three weekends' worth of hangovers. Ardyn feels like a typical licentious villain cliche thing, but I'm just workin' with what Square gave me so w/e, bear with me please. He reminds me a lot of an evil Olivier Lenheim from the Trails in the Sky series (if you have a steam account, I highly recommend this JRPG series, it gives me the old school FF vibe I've been missing from the series since 2001), so that's kinda my inspiration for his character. I dunno. I don't really remember much of Loqi, Verstael, or Iedolas being in too much official material so they're somewhat blank slates.


	15. Front Row

“Have you given any thought to your graduation dinner yet, Noct?” Ignis asks quietly, the question the first unrelated words to be uttered into the four hour deep study session the two engage in to prepare for chemistry finals.

“I mean, uh…” Noctis sighs, tapping his pen against his cheek in thought.

“Remember, I’m willing to cook you whatever you want --- it’s your day…” Ignis adds, though Noctis places his pen down as a warm image appears in his head, not of silk napkins and bespoke tablecloths, but instead of a greasy plate of fries and triple stacked burgers from Kenny Crow’s Diner. Rather than Prompto sat across from Noctis in a tuxedo with his pinky curled, the blonde of his thoughts sits instead arm in arm next to his best friend, the ketchup slathered on the end of the potato dripping onto their seats and laps as they sing and swing in celebration.

“So, uh…I already know you’re gonna say no, but…” Noctis starts, smiling up at his advisor as he closes his textbook hopefully.

“Noct, I will use as many butter packets as you wish in your graduation meal,”

“Well…it’s not really the butter, um…” he scratches behind his neck before resting his head in his hands dreamily. “Have you ever heard of a place called Kenny Crow’s Diner?”

“That _awful_ place that smells like old lady farts, grease, and onions that you and Prompto like to be dropped off in front of a suspiciously fair amount?”

“Yup!”

“Noct, you cannot be serious,” Ignis raises his eyebrows, taking off his glasses and surveying the prince in disbelief.

“Yeah, I am. It’s the first place Prom took me out to eat, and their food is delicious, and the last thing I’m gonna want after sitting through a graduation ceremony is sitting through a boring ass royal dinner --- your food isn’t the problem, Ignis, it’s the literally everything else…” Noctis adds quickly before the utterly mortified expression that creeps up Ignis’ face permanently molds his features. Noctis despised the formal rules, the straight backs, the royal plates, the elbow placements, the specific assignment of fork and knife to specific hands, the care placed on using the crystal glasses, the silent small talk, the four hour, six course affair…

“You won’t be able to fit into your Coronation suit if you eat at a place like that,”

“What, one time in _three_ months?” Noctis laughs softly, folding his arms and leaning back on his father’s chair’s hind legs.

“I suppose you’ll want to dine alone with Prompto?” Ignis insinuates smugly, Noctis chortling at the idea of “dining” at such a lard trap.

“Well, no, I was actually really hoping you and Gladio could meet us too, and uh, Prom was kinda hopin’ so, too…”

“Really? The two of you actually wish for our company?”

“Yeah, you’re our friends too, you know…” Noctis sheepishly lets the chair fall back down to the floor before scribbling absentmindedly on the cover of his notebook.

“You said this Crow restaurant is the first place you and Prompto dined together?”

“Yeah, we got lunch there a couple days after we really started talking, and we just sat there for hours together, we had all kinds of milkshakes, and they have this really weird game in the corner, and uh --- he showed it to me, but Prom is really good at it compared to me…”

“Hmm…” Ignis sighs, Noctis shrugging and trailing off quietly.

“…If that is your desired graduation dinner, then so be it, Your Highness…”

“I mean, you know, it was worth a try, and it’s not like it’s so expensive I can’t go there all the time --- wait, really?!” Noctis jumps from surprise, Ignis expending all of his moral scruples to nod in agreement with Noctis’ plan of essentially blocking their arteries in celebration of their coming of age.

“I’ll even agree to large soft drinks if you can show me what all you’ve gotten done of your speech,”

“Well…” Noctis grins, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his uniform slacks and passing it to Ignis, shrugging innocently.

“Noct, you cannot be top of your class with a speech like this --- as a _prince_ , no less…” Ignis scolds, shaking his head as he re-reads the words _“Glad this shit is over with, have a good summer everyone, and see me at the castle at any time,”_ for the second time.

“Prompto added the castle part…” Noctis adds quietly as Ignis recrumples the paper before sticking it in his own pocket.

“I suppose we’ll need to sit down and draft a speech together as well…”

“It’ll have to be Sunday, tomorrow night’s Spring Festival’s opening night, and I promised Prompto I’d be there to float around wherever he needs help,” Noctis argues, his stomach turning in excitement at the thought of finally being able to spend quality time with his best friend, whom he had not interacted with in nearly three weeks due to his frantic preparations for the event.

“I _have_ to ask Prompto what his personal methods are for getting you to do his bidding so easily…so then I won’t be picking you two up after school?”

“Nah, I’m staying after to help him set up,” Noctis attempts to express an air of indignance at the act, though his own lofty sense of excitement reads in the brightness of his eyes and the softness of his smile.

“Alright, then, me and Gladio will be by with Iris and Talcott at opening hours, then,”

“I’m really glad all you guys could make it, and Prompto’s gonna be even more stoked, he really put his all into this festival, he’s really excited to show you guys he can do more than just hitch rides,”

“Don’t be so ridiculous, we’re thrilled to be invited,” Ignis insists, though he cannot miss the sudden disappointment on Noctis’ face.

“Any word on if dad is gonna turn up?” he asks quietly, Ignis’ shoulders slowly descending as he exhales. Noctis had hoped his father would find the strength to make a brief evening appearance at the festival since Prompto had formally extended him an invitation over dinner nearly a month ago. While Regis had accepted it graciously with a genuine althought muted excitement that boosted both Prompto’s spirit and anxiety level _(“Dude! I’ve been doing these festivals for three years and I’ve never had a King show up! Holy shit, man, your dad’s gonna be at my festival!”)_ , Noctis had noted his father’s aches and groans and tired, wrinkled brow all too well to assume his father would hold to his word.

“Well, he certainly seems a lot more vivacious as of late, what with the first successful talk you and your father managed to conclude with Niflheim last week,” Ignis speculates, Noctis nodding, his mind suddenly trailing to Luna, whom he had not heard from since her departure from Insomnia, the young man wishing too, she could join him at the festival.

“It would be all too tragic for such a big night to be ruined on account of your father, Noct. This is Prompto’s big day and I know he’ll be beyond thrilled to see you enjoying yourself,” Ignis concludes, Noctis nodding before he packs his book away.

“Perhaps your father can make can make the Saturday afternoon,”

“It’s over Saturday night, though, but that’s alright, I have a graduation surprise for Prompto on Sunday,”

“Oh? This is the first I’m hearing of it…”

“Yeah, uh…I…I was hoping Sunday _could_ just be me and him, so I bought train tickets, there’s uh --- there’s a chocobo ranch just outside of Galahd that’s open all day on Sunday, and it’s not too far away from this really nice meadow that seems great for pictures, and I was gonna pack us lunch and take him out to the ranch, ‘cause he really likes chocobos…” Noctis is so red by time he finishes Ignis is certain his white uniform shirt would be permanently discolored from his flushing complexion.

“That’s actually incredibly thoughtful of you, Noct,” Ignis smiles. “I suppose you wouldn’t want a ride, even if I offered one?”

“Nah, I already bought the tickets, and we have a private compartment,”

“Color me surprised…” Ignis mumbles to himself, though he cannot help but feel slightly guilty, knowing that Prompto, on the receiving end of such a thoughtful gift, would only find it harder to kick his romantic feelings for the prince who would fret about his entire kingdom on foot, if only to make Prompto happy.

“Listen, you already know I’m going to tell you to be careful,”

“Duh,” Noctis beams, packing up his school belongings.

“You all may have secured a small peace with Niflheim for now, but never assume they’re not a step ahead of us --- they cannot penetrate the wall, and this is true, but…”

“I know, Ig, we’ll be careful. Besides, Prom can hold his own, now, remember?”

“He’s still got a long way to go…” Ignis mumbles as Noctis leaves the study with his bag over his shoulder, the grandfather clock in the corner striking nine pm, the sun only just beginning to set as the world walks down the aisle of summer.

* * *

 

“What if A team doesn’t talk to _B team_ , and they put the tents up in the wrong spots?! I’m panicking, Noct, I’m panicking!” Prompto shouts, his hands gripped tightly in his hair as Noctis laughs, placing both hands in reassurance upon Prompto’s shoulders.

“I’ve run through all these scenarios with you already, Prom; they’re setting up because they’re the ones _you_ delegated back in _October_ to be Festival set up. You’re gonna chill the hell out and embrace whatever comes over here with me, okay?” Noctis insists before looking Prompto straight in his eyes. The blonde closes his own, huffing once before nodding, setting in the grass next to Noctis, who rustles in his lunch bag.

“You know what?! I’m gonna go see if they need any…thing…” Prompto’s wild exclamation trails off as he feels a tug on the back of his blazer, Noctis’ hands curled in the fabric as he lightly pulls his friend back onto the ground. “I _really_ hate that you’re forcing me to be rational, you know that?!”

“You’ll have Ignis challenging you to fisticuffs if you provoke his ninnying around title any more,” Noctis jokes. He places his arms behind his head, resting them against his own blazer he uses as a makeshift pillow. 

“Is it hot to you, Noct?! It’s kinda hot,” Prompto pants. Noctis closes his eyes as a warm breeze temporarily deafens him. He grabs his light blue oxford shirt, pulling it away from his body quickly in an attempt to fan himself.

“You know, Calix is always dealin’ pot if you wanna simmer down a bit,” Noctis suggests, eyes closed as he enjoys the early summer sun.

“Do princes get drug tested?” Prompto wonders out loud, scratching his chin thoughtfully as Noctis shifts and opens his eyes to see his friend.

“You think I’ve even had as much of a drag of a _cigarette_ with Ignis always keeping me in line?”

“Yeah, and now look at you, top of the class because of how damn good a job Iggy’s done with you! For as much as you like to act you don’t care about school, you sure are good at acing shit!” Prompto laughs as he claps Noctis on the cheek, the prince moodily waving his hand away and grimacing at the implication.

“You’re just as much of a goody two shoes as I am…” Noctis groans. a trapped nerve in his back forces him to roll over on his front. “Don’t,” he snaps suddenly, Prompto freezing in place as the movement in air gives away his attempt to rush off toward a group of students. The two watch said students struggle haplessly with a tent, a particularly harsh breath of wind threatening to topple the metal bars over. “You’ve done your part, Prom, besides, you have to save some of your freak out energy for the real deal tonight…”

“Yeah, you’re right…” Prompto whispers gently; the nerves in Noctis’ abdomen tingle with an electrifying pleasantness at the sound of the maudlin mumble Prompto would sometimes let escape from his lips when his emotions got the best of him.

“You okay?” Noctis asks as he sits up to face Prompto, stretching and flickering his squinted eyes open as they adjust to the brightness of the sun.

“I just…I really want things to go right tonight. Not even just because, you know, nearly the whole Royal Family is gonna be there tonight…this’ll be my last year throwing the Festival, and for as many nights as its kept me up throughout high school, I really am gonna miss it. I’m gonna miss all of this, really…” Prompto lies down next to his friend, both of their heads propped up against the palms of their hands. They gaze quietly at one another, Noctis bringing his other hand to lightly brush loose strands of blonde hair out of Prompto’s eyes, blown carelessly by the wind. He brings the hand to rest comfortingly on Prompto’s shoulder. The blonde’s soft chuckle turns into a sniff, a single tear plopping untracably into the thick, dark green grass.

“I can’t say I’m too mad to say goodbye…” Noctis adds. He curses himself mentally as he misses the opportunity he sees in the pause of their conversation as a harrowing chance to propose his idea to Prompto of moving in with him into the apartment he had picked out for himself after graduation. While Noctis’ own melodramatic experience with public high school was drawing to a more positive close than he could have ever hoped for some months ago, he finds himself able to part with it all quite effortlessly --- save for the sole possibility he had to see Prompto everyday.

“Come on, Prom…” Noctis whispers supportively. The two of them help one another stand up, brushing their bodies of loose grass and pollen before smiling lightly. “We’ve still got another week of school to get all sappy,” he is thrilled that he gets Prompto to laugh softly, the chuckle catching in the young man’s throat. The warmth they both feel as they register their fingers are curled in one another’s has little to do with the sun peeking out from behind a quickly moving cloud.

“Can I please go see how things’re goin’ over there, now?” Prompto quietly pleads, Noctis rolling his eyes at the request. His wide smile betrays his pretense of irritation as he slings a welcomed arm around Prompto’s shoulder. The blonde rests his head upon Noctis’ own as they slowly begin their amble towards a cluster of student council members a few hundred feet away.

* * *

 Noctis stops mid stride to silently admire Prompto’s flawless, fluid rhythm; he makes change effortlessly before handing color coded wristbands to festival attendees depending on the ages of the members, all before bowing and wishing them a good time before serving the next set of guests in line.

“Hey, uh Noctis?! Those food tickets aren’t going to get to the popcorn stand themselves, you know,” A haughty junior Student Council member snaps at the prince from over his shoulder, reorganizing his money till as he does so. Noctis sneers sassily at the student’s back before silently sticking his tongue out at him, redjusting the four cumbersome, heavy rolls of tickets he balances in his arms as they threaten to fall into the mud.

 _“The things I’ll do to make Prompto happy…”_ Noctis mentally grumbles, rejecting his greater urge to drop them in the mud, and the kid along with them, and instead opting to place the tickets blunty onto the popcorn table, partially due to his moodiness, partially due to their weight. He wipes his hands, placing them on his waist as he uses the break in between jobs to steal another brief look at Prompto, whose soft laughter with Aelia on the till next to him sends the Moogle Pom on top of his yellow hat wavering wildly from side to side.

“You know you’ll stay slack-jawed like that for good if you keep smiling at him like that,” Philo teases, Noctis turning around with a start to meet the smug grin of his classmate, who crosses his arms haughtily. _“No, what?! Shut up,”_ Noctis mumbles as an incorehent response, tugging harder on his green Cactuar hat to hide his face as he hands a large bag of popcorn to a guest, who silently hands him exact change.

Philo merely wags his thick, dark brown eyebrows before addressing a festival goer with a bright cheeriness that almost leaves Noctis wondering if their brief conversation ever happened at all.

 _“I wonder whose suggestion it was for Festival Staff to wear these goofy ass hats…”_ Noctis surveys various googly-eyed chocobos, cactuars, moogles, and tonberries upon the heads of various working classmates, Noctis folding his arms and smiling as he watches Prompto flap his arms like a flying chocobo to Aelia, who clutches her stomach in laughter. _“Nevermind…”_ he answers his own question.

“Interesting how Prompto placed you with me, and Aelia with him,” Philo grunts as they finally ease a line of popcorn enthusiasts, the brunette wiping his brow and taking a short rest against the popcorn machine.

“Probably because it’s the only way we’d get work done,” Noctis scoffs in response.

“I _like_ you and all, Noct, but Aelia’s my girl,” Philo chuckles, nodding his head slowly as his sudden statement leaves Noctis wide-eyed and dumbfounded. “Uh- _okay_ ,” he agrees, scooping heaping servings of popcorn into a bucket nearly a third of his height.

“She was the one in charge of Festival decorations, right?” Noctis asks, placing the bucket onto the table and couting change silently.

“Yeah, the lanterns were her idea,” Philo adds dreamily, Noctis looking up over the white tent’s covering. Strung above the dozens of white tents are yellow-white Christmas lights, a paper moogle or chocobo lantern alternating between them in symmetrical, summery accents. Their gentle glow is almost romantic in the dark orange tint that colors everything against the setting sun, Noctis musing quietly, the muffled shouts and exclamations of excitement drowning out his own tranquil, introspective thoughts.

“You could tell your boy Prompto was having a hard time leaving different responsibilities up to different students, but he’s clearly pretty pleased with how opening night is going. You can tell the underclassmen are gonna miss his direction; he’s been a great leader all these years,”

Noctis allows Philo’s words to sink in as he watches dozens upon dozens of families try to push past one another in the three-people deep walkway between each tent. It truly had been a successful festival thus far, and the blonde seemed to enjoy the fruits of his success judging by his hyper, contagious joy. “There’s no way he won’t be nominated for Senior Class King,” Philo adds, laughing as Noctis sneaks another kernel of chili popcorn, bringing his finger to his lips in an effort to keep him quiet.

“Yeah, he can definitely have it,” Noctis nods somewhat humorlessly, predicting Philo’s question of _“You jealous?”_ before he can pose it.

“Any summer plans after graduation, Your Highness?” Philo asks, it being Noctis’ turn to smirk as he catches Philo watching longingly after his own red-headed friend and she does a synchronized chocobo dance together with Prompto at the wristband tent.

_Move out of the castle in his admittedly hesistant, but heavily needed first move at real independence. Get Warping down to one hundred percent, versus just ninety five. Master firearms through practice with Gladio. See Luna again. Assist his father where he can as a King in Waiting. Bake with Ignis to boost his own cooking repretoir. Console Prompto over his rejection from Lestallum School of Art and Design. Cheer Prompto up with more Chocobo Ranch. Get Prompto moved in to his apartment by the second week of June. Go furniture shopping with Prompto; the two had relatively similar tastes in terms of homemaking (toss it on the floor until it gets dirty, then toss it in the hamper until Ignis picks it up). Pose the idea of sharing a bed with Prompto, which the two had nearly done on a regular basis whenever Prompto spent the night at the castle anyway. Practice cooking with Ignis until he gets the five-course rhythm down. Surprise Prompto with a full, mature, homemade dinner. Star gaze on the balcony with Prompto. Binge twelve hour gaming sessions with Prompto. Wake up every morning next to Prompto, starting their days together with long, deep kisses and warm embraces._

“Uh…just prince shit, I guess, maybe volunteer at a dog shelter for a while,” Noctis options to cryptically reveal, Philo fanning a sticky, half-chewed mouthful of cinnamon popcorn on approaching customers as he laughs at the prince’s sassy side comment.

“Highness!” a familiar voice calls, Noctis turning around suddenly to see Ignis and Gladio at Prompto’s tent a good fifty feet away, Prompto himself waving madly as he points to Gladio, Ignis, Talcott, and Iris excitedly.

“Hold on a sec,” Noctis grins, placing a hand on Philo’s shoulder as the brunette groans, having to deal with the fallout of a grumpy father whose face is covered in slobbery popcorn bullets all by himself.

“Hey,” Noctis smiles casually as he slows his jog as he reaches the tent.

“Sorry we’re running so late --- Talcott and Iris could not find their costumes,” Ignis explains, the two teenagers beaming as they show off their matching moogle wings and pom headbands.

“It’s no problem, Iggy, it’s not like we have clocks at our stations…” Noctis grumbles, pulling out his cellphone to reveal it is 8pm exactly.

“Iris bets I can’t eat three sticks of cotton candy and a Jumbo chili popcorn in one go!” Talcott brags, puffing out his chest as Prompto blows a raspberry and waves a dismissive hand in Iris’ direction.

“Go for five sticks, dude!”

“I bet him ten Lucians he can’t do it,” Iris smugly whispers, Gladio handing both her and Talcott bright green wristbands for guests eighteen and younger.

“I told him if he even tries, he will be cleaning the inevitable rainbow vomit that will splatter my back seat,” Ignis explains to Prompto and Noctis, who laugh at the two of them.

“Any word on dad?” Noctis asks Ignis in a low voice only the two of them can detect.

“I’m afraid not, Your Highness,” Ignis shakes his head sadly, lips pursed.

“So Noct, uh, you think you can take a break long enough to give me --- I mean us, the rundown?” Iris blushes, her hands behind her back as she sways side to side, her long-lashed eyes fluttering with a flirty innocence the young girl fails to conceal.

“No, he’s busy! Come on, let’s go find that cotton candy stand! I need that money to get that Cactuar statue at the Promenade!” Talcott interrupts with explosive enthusiasm, pointing to a pastel-colored tent adorned with chalk-dyed cotton balls. “I haven’t given you your spending money!” Ignis chases after them, Gladio shrugging his shoulders before giving Prompto a fist bump and a “good job puttin’ this thing on yourself, Blondie,” before following after them leisurely.

“So…” Noctis mumbles nervously, staring at his toes as his tennis shoes dig in to the loose ground.

“Yeah…” Prompto replies just as breathlessly, looking up at the inside of the tent as the two share their first moment alone since this afternoon, Aelia having used the distraction of Ignis and company as her escape to chat ceaselessly to her best friend at the popcorn tent.

“Gladio’s right; you’ve done great, Prompto,” Noct nods awkwardly.

_'Why is it so hard to talk to my own best friend?!'_

“Pfff---stop, Noct,”

“All that worrying for nothing, dude,” Noctis beams, swiping the hat from atop his head to reveal his sweaty, sticky hair.

“You say that, but if I hadn’t worried up until now, this place would be a hot mess!” Prompto explains, taking off his own hat and twisting it in his hands nervously.

“You, uh, wanna go for a walk? It’ll give you a chance to take some pictures,” Noctis suggests softly, Prompto nodding slowly before looking around wildly about the tent as he sees a group of people approaching the tent.

“Hey, uh --- Cassius --- can you, uh, watch the wristbands for a bit?” Prompto nervously asks a broad shouldered classmate, whose own chocobo hat is comically small compared to the rest of the frame. He taps the shoulder of their classmate, who merely shrugs in silent ambivalence as he switches places with Prompto, who jogs slightly to meet Noctis, who now stands outside of the tent.

Noctis resists the urge to bring an arm around Prompto’s shoulder, the amount of people making the motion both physically impossible and also completely exposed in regards to their lack of privacy.

“Where’d the others run up to?” Prompto wonders quietly, scanning the densely populated festival for their friends, Noctis shrugging. “Probably to the cotton candy tent, but, uh, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause I kinda wanted just, I dunno…” Noctis trails off, Prompto slowly turning his head to see Noctis keeps his own fixed on anything but Prompto.

The black hair on Noctis’ arm stands up as he feels Prompto grab his hand once more, dragging him toward a cluster of carnival game tents, brightly illuminated by lanterns and the screams of excited children.

 _“Yeah, Iggy! Boom!”_ Gladio’s booming, excited voice roars, Gladio fist pumping as Ignis folds his arms, the bigger of the two men having tossed a lucky ring, and thus beating Ignis out of a giant chocobo balloon.

“He won’t be living that one down, either…” Prompto snorts, his hands in his pockets as they walk down past the row of games. “You hungry?” Noctis asks concernedly.

“No, I think I need at least opening night to be over before I can ever eat again,” Prompto groans, taking his camera out and snapping a few classy pictures of the busy crowd bustling past brightly illuminated tents against the dark purple of the nearly completely set sun. “In about two hours, I’ll be able to eat again,”

“Philo was complaining the whole time that you had Aelia up there with you,” Noctis laughs, Prompto rolling his eyes before shaking his head.

“Dude, everyone knows that was the only way they were gonna be able to get any work done,”

“ _Kinda_ what I said…” Noctis agrees. “Not that Philo had a counter argument there,”

“Two years ago I had them at the nacho stand, and they weren’t even paying attention when they’d give customers _three_ free toppings instead of two!”

“Those wily bastards!” Noctis concurs in mock anger and Prompto’s genuine outrage. “Then the year before that, they didn’t even realize they had been giving adults kid wristbands, so when we had to bring our profits to the school auditor, we had a giant margin of error that took into the beginning of this school year to sort out!”

“Okay, messing with money’s kinda steep…” Noctis concedes, closing his eyes aggravatedly as the shouts of young children on a carnival ride make Prompto nearly impossible to hear.

“Let’s chill behind here for a sec,” Noctis suggests, ducking under a brown table to lead his friend into a relatively forgotten about storage tent, Noctis leaning against a set of stacked crates, his feet throbbing after having to support his frame for nearly six hours without a break.

“Feels better now the sun’s going down…” Prompto utters, Noctis noticing the sudden nervous change in the blonde’s frame.

“Yeah…”

“Everyone’s so excited, it’s…it’s awesome to know that my time here at this school wasn’t just for nothin’,” Prompto smiles, Noctis nodding supportively.

“I’ve never been able to turn out a crowd this big, you know! And everyone’s talkin’ about how good of a leader you’ve been, how they’ll miss you...if I can be half as successful as a king as you’ve been as a Student Council Leader, I’ll call it a successful reign, to be honest…” Noctis compliments, folding his arms and watching people pass by through the small sliver of a view the gap in a few crates provides.

“Mmm…” Prompto replies, leaning against his own pile, staring at his feet.

 “…You know, none of this would’ve been possible without your gala, Noct,” the blonde utters unexpectedly after a few minutes of silence.

“What do you mean…” Noctis asks in a voice as soft as Prompto’s previous statement, shifting against the splintery wood to better see his friend’s flushed, exhausted face.

“Well…usually we’d been fundraising all the way up to a week before opening weekend, for a festival _half_ as big as this. But your fundraising gala a few months ago got us double the budget we’ve ever had, and look at how it’s turned out!” Prompto beams, gesturing around them.

“I mean, Ignis planned it…” Noctis’ excuse gets caught in his throat as the tip of Prompto’s nose touches his own, Prompto suddenly standing a hair’s width away from him. Noctis’ whole body stiffens at their unexpected closeness, the two of them able to smell the salty scent of sweat on each other’s skin and hair.

“But who suggested it to Ignis, Noct?” Prompto whispers, Noctis’s fingers curling into Prompto’s for what must’ve been the fourth time that day, their digits tightening their hold on one another as the blonde suddenly stands on tip toe, their soft breath rattling against each other’s slightly sunburned cheeks.

“I mean…” Noctis trails off, Prompto bringing his hands to lock around his best friend’s neck, his own hands betraying him as they grip onto the hips of his best friend, his own mind swimming in a slow slurry of empty thoughts as he half-heartedly tries to use their closeness as a chance to count the exact number of freckles that sprawl across the cheeks and nose of the slightly shorter friend of the two. Noctis’ hands shake in their grip against his best friend, the prince catching a faint whiff of cinnamon and almond as the blonde presses himself somehow closer against him.

“You must’ve worked at the almond tent at some point…” Noctis states in a missably quiet lameness, Prompto nodding gingerly as the two close their eyes, their sticky lips meeting with a soft smack ---

The deafening sound of collective gasps and cheers startle Noctis so hard he slams backward against the solid, thick, wooden crates, swearing as he massages the back of his skull, lightheaded and pounding. He opens his stinging eyes to see Prompto with his entire ass planted in the mud, the blonde gripping onto his shin and hissing, for he must have hurt it in the sudden confusion of their movements.

_“IS THAT KING REGIS?!”_

_“THE KING IS HERE!”_

_“WOW, HE EVEN HAS GLAIVES WITH HIM!”_

_“CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! IT’S THE KING!”_

_“GET A PICTURE, HURRY!”_

Noctis extends a hand to Prompto, which he graciously grabs as his friend helps him off the muddy ground with a thick squelch. “My mom is gonna kill me when she sees another muddy uniform,” he groans, shaking his still aching leg as Noctis cannot help but cover his laugh with his hand after a few seconds of awkward silence between the two of them. It does not take long before both of their laughs are too loud and full to be hidden behind their fists, Prompto angrily stripping himself of his uniform blazer and slamming it against the top of a waist height crate.

“Guess your dad’s here, dude, let’s go say hey,” he suggests breathlessly, his mind still spinning, both from their interrupted moment, as well as the disorientation of having lost his balance and banging up his kneecap.

“Yeah, he’d kill me if we didn’t shoot him a quick what’s up after all the begging I did,” Noctis agrees, feeling Prompto relax into the arm he drapes against his shoulder without shame or embarrassment.


	16. Surprises (Edited Version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. As I mentioned as I posted this chapter yesterday, I was severely unhappy with it. I had a handful of very helpful replies from a lot of you about little things to fix. I made a few very small changes and find it already to be slightly better, albeit far from perfect. In the original version I posted, they had kissed. 
> 
> Truthfully speaking, I know when I want them to have their first real kiss, and the original version of this chapter is not it. It was kinda a spur-of-the-moment one that seemed ok at the time, but I'd like to retract. Sorry. It's still far from perfect, but my original vision for it I think will be much better and much more rewarding to both write and read. Thanks so much for all of your support, praise, and criticism!

“Who is this?” a tired, wrinkled Regis asks abruptly to Noctis, the sagging looseness of his withery skin swinging wildly with each syllable.

“It’s Prompto, dad!” Noctis retorts disbelievingly, his arm still wrapped tightly around Prompto’s shoulder. An organ plays a cheery tune. The half moon above makes its debut from behind a quickly moving, dark grey cloud, the light casting a spotlight on the anxious couple.

“I cannot hear you!” King Regis mouths, closing his baggy black eyes and cupping a jeweled hand to his liver-spotted ear. Noctis mouths the words once more, completely drowned out by the deafening sound of screaming children upon a carnival ride.

“I have to show him, Prom, I have to show him who you are,” Noctis explains desperately, turning Prompto violently to face him, his fingers digging sharply into his armpits.

“O-okay, dude!” Prompto agrees, throwing his hands up in capitulation of the prince’s desires, sending Noctis staggering backward. He looks around as the carnival, packed well beyond expected capacity, accommodates thousands of guests, who brush past them swiftly, though oddly without any impact.

“Put your coins into the Nickeloden!” Talcott waves, Iris on his shoulders, their towering frames flickering in what little pockets of space the rushing crowds offer Prompto. The blonde squints his eyes, holding up a round, silver Lucian coin, tracing the etching of the Pious King’s likeness with blistered, muddy fingers. “You can see your wedding dress in there!”

“I don’t wear dresses!” Prompto snaps at the two children, but Noctis snatches Prompto so they face each other once more, Regis’s green, rotting skin, falling off in sickly clumps into the mud.

“We don’t have a lot of time, Prom, show dad who you are!” Noctis insists before bringing him into a deep kiss, their lips smacking sensually as he feels the dark haired boy’s tongue slip past his teeth.

“What are we, Noct?!” Prompto wrenches himself free of his friend and nearly begs, but Ignis comes stomping over, fists balled in fury.

“You see to it that your princess curties before a King!” he chastises, but before Noctis can nearly sever the blonde’s spine with the forceful curtsy he lowers them both into before his putrid father, he finds it all vibrates away until his dream morphs into his bedroom.

“Great, more nightmares…” Prompto curses sarcastically, lying flat on his back, eyes still closed. It beat premonitions of Daemons and slashing knives. While such nightmares left him terrifyingly sure he had narrowly escaped death, he cannot say he knows where to categorize his fourth festival-related nightmare in a week. The first two he had before the actual festival’s opening weekend involved little kissing of Noctis, such as those after Friday had.

Bzzzzt.

_Come on, Prom. I’m serious, it’s worth it. Get up already, I’m gonna be there in like fifty minutes._

“Ughhhh…” Prompto groans, briefly catching a glimpse of three or four missed texts from Noctis and slamming his hand that clenches his phone against his bed, shielding his eyes from the early morning light with his pillow. “You can’t be fuckin’ serious, dude…” Prompto mutters, mostly asleep as he forces himself to sit up, exhaling unamusedly as he brings a fist to rub his eyes, his blurry vision still split in six.

_This is the first real stretch of sleep I’m gonna be getting since giving the festival full gas, Noct. it’s seven on a Sunday morning, and I’m excited about the surprise and stuff, but can’t it wait until after like, three?_

Prompto rushedly sends the text with such quickness he does not even register typing it up. News of yet another nightmare (Noctis insisted Prompto keep him up to date) could also wait until after three. He runs his fingers through his hair, groggily trailing his hand down to grab his phone as it buzzes once more.

_I promise you’ll love me forever, come on. It’s worth it._

“Nice fucking choice of words there, man…” Prompto mumbles shamefully as he rereads the text, shaking his head and swinging his legs onto his cool hardwood floor. He’d been very thankful for the neverending busyness of the previous thirty six hours, for they allowed little time or room for processing the brief lapse in judgment (so he had hastily labeled it before deliberately pushing the idea out of his head) Prompto had displayed toward Noctis on Friday night. He shakes both the hair from his eyes and such thoughts from his head, stripping himself of his undershirt and pants. He brings an arm to protect his eyes as steam billows from the clean yet small, hard, light blue ceramic shower-bath tub combination.

Why had he done it? Why did Prompto see their seclusion as a chance to express his forbidden emotions? He’d seen nothing, in reality; his mind washed tracelessly away as his emotions stole the better part of his senses, much like the cotton candy he’d sold for some part of the evening when hit with warm water. His own lack of understanding toward his actions were very much responsible for his own personal sense of confusion.

He absentmindedly cleans soap scum off the light pink, tiled wall with his nails, slowly leaning into the jet of water as his back adjusts to the scalding temperature. He picks up a small bottle of shampoo he smuggled from the Citdael (“Whatever the hell it is Prince Noctis has you both usin’ to wash your hair smells real good, so next time you’re over there be sure to grab a bottle or two,” his mother whispered in his ear one morning before leaving with Ignis), the pearly soap flowing into his hand in thick, folding layers.

“Where’re you goin’, Prom?” a voice asks from the other side of the curtain, Prompto peeking his head behind it, only to retract his head in disgust as his naked father pisses into the toilet.

“Uh…good morning to you too, dad,” he chuckles, lamenting that the shampoo is too irritating to scour the image out of his eyes. He washes the lathered up shampoo from his hair, spitting water from his mouth before he responds. “I uh, I actually don’t know, Noct said it’s a surprise…”

“Another excursion with Prince Noctis, then? Can’t say I’m all too shocked, either. Seems like you guys were inseperable when we ran into you both on Friday!”

“Heh, uh, yeah, haha…” Prompto anxiously sputters in response, memories of how Noctis had not refused his hypnotizing advance sending a trickling wave of passion down his body. He was thankful, at the very least, that his parents had caught the two of them in subdued conversation with the King, rather than behind secluded tents…

The whole scenario had occurred over a mere twenty or so second time frame (Prompto had played it over so many different times in his head that he finds the twenty second version to be the most accurate).

“I just dunno how you have the energy for all you’re gallivanting around, kiddo,”

“Tell me about it…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want to sleep some more, but…” Prompto yawns, cutting himself off mid sentence.

“You planning on coming home for dinner?”

“Yeah, Noct said he has to do some prince stuff with Ignis this evening, so I’ll definitely be around,”

“Your mom has a surprise of her own planned! We’re so proud of you, Prom; graduating high school, putting on the festival, getting into Lestallum…”

“Yeah…” Prompto matches his father’s excitement in tone, but he looks down at the water as it rushes through his toes, the pit in his stomach growing wider at the thought of the acceptance letter he’d come home to his parents excitedly brandishing in his face the night before. While there was much to be said of his own personal sense of accomplishment, happiness and excitement, he could not help but resent the inevitable conversation with Noctis. Though it is one he’s known about and mentally planned for weeks, he feels no more prepared, nor equipped with the right words, now that the time had come.

The toilet flushes, Prompto screaming and dancing about the bathtub as the water turns unbearably cold.

“Sorry, bud. Have a good day with Prince Noctis, and tell him he’s more than welcome to come to your celebration dinner tonight, if he wants! Though our table is nowhere near as nice as his!” his father laughs, washing his hands quickly before exiting with a whistle.

Prompto quickly wraps a towel around his waist as he steps out of the tub, drying himself hurriedly as he also rushes about, styling his hair and rubbing lotion on his peeling, sunburned skin. He pulls a light but long sleeved, dark green shirt over his head, wanting to give his flesh a break from the sun. His tight, light grey jeans cling flatteringly to his lean body, Prompto stuffing his camera, his cellphone, and the acceptance letter into his camera bag, which he slings over his shoulder. Condensation renders the entirety of his small window a yellowy opague, Prompto swinging it open and instantly feeling the rush of wet, chilly, morning summer air. The sky is dark blue and cloudless, the sprawling, congested city of Insomnia silent on the morning of rest, save for the rumbling of a bus’ engine on the street below.

“How am I supposed to tell him?” Prompto quietly replies to his father’s fifteen minute old question, resting his head and arms against the window sill as he waits for his best friend.

 

* * *

 

Noctis’ shoulders are nearly as squared as the jaw of Ignis who observes him; his green eyes ricochet between the mayonnaise slathered knife that juts blade first off the counter, to the crusted globs of dried butter on the stone kitchen floor, and lastly to a slice of auburn spiral ham that squelches off the bone and onto the floor as well.

“Since when do you eat such filth?!” Ignis sneers at Noctis’ hunched back before bringing a jar of mayonnaise into his gloved hand and twisting it to read the label.

“Prom likes it,” is all Noctis offers in terms of explanation, Ignis’s upper lip nearly curling into his nostril as he realizes the outside of the jar is smothered in the condiment.

“How many of those sandwiches are you planning on making, Noct?”

The young man clenches the tip of his tongue between his thin lips as he takes the top of another Kaiser bun and squishes it against the rest of the sandwich, half melted butter pirouetting out from the edges.

“Enough to last at least a train ride, an afternoon and back…” Noctis mumbles, Ignis unable to read his deadpanned neutrality as indifference, irritation, or nerves.

“Is everything alright, Your Highness?” Ignis starts quietly, eyeing Noctis cautiously as he slips the now wrapped sandwiches into one of Gladio’s black training duffles.

“I mean…” Noctis scoffs with an ironic snort of laughter, pausing and staring at his shoes. “I don’t even really know…” he shakes his head before squeezing a rag and messily cleaning the lard off the cool floors.

“Well, you’re up and showered at 7:00 am on a Sunday morning, packing reasonably portioned lunches, in a seemingly decent mood…” Ignis observe skeptically, as if checking off such traits from an invisible checklist.

“What can I say…?” Noctis tries to smile, leaning into the palm of his hand that grips the counter as a support for his whole body. Noctis had played the brief, sensual exchange between himself and his best friend repeatedly in the back of his mind. Said memories guided him hazily through the weekend, the sharp seconds of the repetitive reverie a foghorn in the oppressive mist of his own confusion.

“I suppose it is I who is not quite on top of the game, I’m only just remembering you said you were to treat Prompto to an excursion outside of the city…”

Noctis nods gingerly, a cross between “mhm” and a general utterance of acknowledgement getting tangled in the barbed dryness of his parched throat.

“And you’re certain you don’t want a ride, or for either Gladio or myself to join you?”

“Nah, I --- we have some stuff that we gotta talk about, I guess…”

Ignis successfully stops himself from barking a single, accusatory laugh with an accompanying “No shit?!”, the older of the two of them merely adjusting his glasses upon his nose. “I’d say that’s reasonable, the two of you ought to best get a mutual understanding of where your lives are taking you at this set of lengthy crossroads,” Ignis cannot help but internally savor his professional, stoic save.

“I wish things were as simple as you manage to make them seem,” Noctis laments, lugging the mayonnaise into a storage freezer.

“Have you not sought Luna’s counsel regarding your ever approaching duties? I imagine hearing a voice other than my own for a change would prove quite helpful,” Ignis suggests, Noctis shaking his head as he uncharacteristically cleans the kitchen with no prompts or reminders.

To suggest that Noctis needed to bother the busy woman with unimportant, juvenile details of his fleeting, assuredly meaningless crush on his friend was nearly as insulting to the prince as the dig at his level of functionality at such an early hour.

“I haven’t heard from her in so long, not since the ceremony…I’m honestly startin’ to get kinda worried about her,” Noctis trails off, hardly needing yet more emotional turmoil to further complicate life.

“She's been conducting various talks with the Niflheim Empire regarding the fallout of your ceremony; she's quite the busy woman as of late, one would suppose no news is good news, and that the death or discomfort of the Oracle would make very serious news indeed,”

"You've known this and you haven't thought to tell me?!" Noctis cocks an eyebrow. "Very unlike you, Iggy..."

"Well," Ignis begins pointedly, swallowing a hearty gulp of pulpy orange juice, holding up a finger to precede his rebuttal. "Any attempts to hone your focus on such affairs is met with scoffs and attitude, especially as your graduation grows ever nearer; you know you should be working on your speech this entire weekend, yet you shirk today to go ride chocobos with Prompto..."

"I'm not shirking, I'm just handling my business..."

"I suppose, if that's what you'd like to call it..." Ignis concedes, swishing a sip of orange juice around the bottom ring of his cup with casual interest.

“I’m gonna go, but uh, I’ll be back tonight by sevenish to work on the speech, okay?” Noctis starts awkwardly, darting his eyes to the floor quickly before meeting Ignis' once more.

“Alright, Your Highness…” Ignis concedes sternly, Noctis throwing him a short wave before leaving the kitchen without any other questions to leave open to interpretation.

 

* * *

 

“…You sure everything’s okay, Prom?” Noctis asks concernedly, craning his neck slightly to get a better look at the blonde who sits across from him. The idea of having a private compartment to themselves on the train had seemed much more vivacious in Noctis’ head versus the reality. Where Noctis had envisioned the two of them tangled in each other’s arms as slaves to never ending fits of hysterical laughter, Prompto had instead sat rigidly across from him, his head slumped against the window. Nearly twenty of the forty five minute train ride to the Chocobo Ranch had been spent in awkward silence.

Prompto crumples the acceptance letter nervously in his pocket, his teeth massaging the inside of his cheek to the same pasty mush as his sweaty hand does the paper. Noctis catches a faint outline of his reflection as he too, stares out the window like Prompto. The train whips quickly past never ending, emerald green plains, the surfaces of which are still bathed in early morning fog. The cloudless sky follows them even beyond Insomnia, the sun nowhere close to fully risen, as it is barely 8:35 in the morning. The dark orange rays of sunlight that stretch into their compartment flicker between the trees they rapidly pass.

“Yeah, just tired,” Prompto partially fibs, bringing his melancholy gaze away from the window and offering Noctis a gentle smile. _“Now is not the right time...”_ Prompto mourns, pushing his inevitable confession to the back of his mind, blood rushing in his ears as he registers his own slight faintness. He mourns their early mornings, their stolen, obscenely late nights, their laughs, their resting thighs, their shared lunches, the mingled messes of their clothes on Noctis’ bedroom floor, he mourns the fact that Amelia would eventually come to forget their regular orders, to the point where she would no longer bring it to them just by the sight of their arrival at her café, he mourns that eventually, she would forget about Prompto in his emotional Sabbatical to Lestallum, and about Noctis in his eternal addresses to his public.

He mourns Ignis’ rosemary and sage roast chickens, the glares he would shoot Bertha when she would under baste them, the caramel on his flans, the wide breadth of the soup spoons that stretched their faces in distracting obelisks that kept them laughing throughout dinner. He mourns Gladio’s arm wrestles and the sore, strained biceps that could carry nothing for days after. He mourns describing to Gladio his dream girl, the older of the two of them giving pointers on just how to find her. He mourns the imagined warmth of Umbra at his feet during his pleasant dreams, and the unimagined warmth of Carbuncle when he came to soothe his nightmares. There will simply never be a right time, Prompto registers as he briefly blinks his handsome friend from his vision. “Sorry, man, I just --- the festival took a lot out of me, I didn’t get in last night until nearly midnight…”

“I mean, tell me about it, you think I had an easy time being up before seven?” Noctis asks sarcastically, Prompto leaning his head straight back against the top of his dark red leather seat, eyes closed.

“Yeah, if the roles were reversed, you’d be insufferable right now, so cut me a bit of slack…” Prompto chuckles, growing slightly queasy as his upper body sways left and right with the rhythm of the rolling train.

“I know it’s super early, but like I said, when you see what I’ve got planned, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me,” Noctis grins, lying across his entire seat, Prompto opening his eyes and crossing his legs butterfly style. He stretches as he yawns dramatically, Noctis thankful Prompto does not notice his lingering gaze as his shirt lifts up over his athletic stomach.

Prompto always found Noctis’ casual outfits to be somewhat silly, his current ensemble preventing him from being completely irritated with Noctis’ insistence of being functional at such an early hour; where the prince had obviously little need to follow or care too much about fashion trends in his private isolation, he had managed to assemble together a variety of at times very questionable outfits.

His fitted, multi-colored chocobo t-shirt, tight dark blue jeans, and dark gray tennis shoes give Prompto the distinct image that his best friend was more of a kid left behind on a Sunday School fieldtrip versus the prince of their kingdom. Regardless, the very same sheltered “church boy” is so handsome that even his sillier outfits do nothing to diminish his good looks in the eyes of the blonde who loves him.

“So, what’s the schedule then, Noct? You gonna leave me in the dark all day?” Prompto starts out of partial guilt over his silence.

“Well…” Noctis trails off, wondering internally where it was he could begin. If only the lines between simple and complicated were as straight and defined as the sketch of the day he’d scrawled in his mind’s eye: _“Get off the train, walk a bit down the trail to the Chocobo Ranch. Feed the Chocobos, Ride Chocobos for a while, let you blow some inevitable steam as you run around taking pictures like a chocobo with its head cut off, suggest some lunch with a picnic on the cliff overlooking the ocean not too far from the ranch, ask if you wanna be my roommate, rent free, find a way, some fuckin’ how, to tell you how I really didn’t mind what happened at the festival the other night, find a way to pick up where we left off, even…”_

“…Yeah, pretty much,” Noctis sighs jokingly, though he does not miss the own hollowness in his voice as he tries to prevent the emotion of his entire inner dialogue from spilling from his lips before he can stop it. Prompto growls in playful irritation as his lips part into the first real smile Noctis had seen from his best friend all morning.

“Hey, uh, Prom?” Noctis starts quietly, Prompto finishing up a few taps on his cellphone before he lifts his head to meet Noctis’ question. His mind blanks as he attempts to find an excuse to nestle himself in the small amount of open space on Prompto’s side. “Can I…? Uh...” he stalls dully, leaving his thought unfinished as he lifts himself off his seat with the palms of his hands, slowly swaggering his way toward Prompto before he sits down next to him with unabashed closeness.

“’Sup with you, Noct?” Prompto attempts to inject a lightheartedness into his voice at the proximity of their bodies, the creeping feeling of Friday night instantly returning as strands of Noctis’ still slightly damp hair cling to Prompto’s neck.

“I, uh…just wanted to see what you were doing on your phone,” Noctis deflects, Prompto melting internally as a bassline of deep laughter rumbles in his ear and down Noctis’ chest.

“…What?” it was Prompto’s turn to ask.

“You smell like my shampoo, but you haven’t been to the Citadel in a few days,”

“You weren’t gonna miss that bottle, man!” Prompto defends himself, looking out the window as the train slows to a halt at a small, two-platformed countryside station. Noctis takes the brief moment to abort his hamfisted and awkward attempt at recreating the circumstances of Friday, grabbing a small black duffel bag that carries their lunch supplies and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Is that Prince Noctis?” a hushed voice of an unidentified passenger whispers as Noctis steps out into the walkway, Noctis rolling his eyes as he puts on his light weight, black zip up hoodie and pointedly puts the hood up over his head.

“Get used to it, buddy, you have the whole summer to get over your shyness,” Prompto claps Noctis on his shoulder, the two of them stepping off onto the concrete platform, waiting for the packed train to empty out before they bother trying to head out of the station. The air is fresh and wet, the salt of a sea not too far away burning in Noctis’ nostrils. Gulls cry out a few feet above them, drifting away with the wind as it picks up in powerful swells. A weight in his heart lessens as he sees Prompto slowly starts to wake up, the blonde caring little about the crowds as he makes his way toward the end of the platform to take a handful of pictures.

“There’s no turnin’ back after this, Noctis…” he mumbles to himself, exhaling sharply before he waves slightly at Prompto’s chipper, approaching frame. “Dude! Check out this awesome pic of a frog I just snapped!”

“It looks really good, but we have a walk ahead of us, and I know you’re gonna wanna save your chops for later,”

“Dude, you’re makin’ me like, excited and nervous at the same time!” Prompto cannot help but push his anxieties out of his head in the heat of his cautious curiosity. He grips his camera tight in both hands, trotting enthusiastically down the steps as they come to a perfectly manicured gravel path, flanked on either side by waist high reeds. Noctis lets his hood down as the last of the passengers continue further past them.

He stops and admires the view around him as Prompto snaps a picture of the charmingly unkempt train station (the periwinkle painted wood façade chips tastefully, coupled with the small seaside town aesthetic of starfish and seashells). All around them the sharp, itchy grass is a white-green, sun bleached of nearly all its color. The gravel is satisfyingly fine under their shoes, marking their progress with even crunches under their soles. The sounds of other couples (Noctis shudders slightly at his choice of words) engaged in the lazy joys of hapless Sundays are drowned out only by the sound of, far, far away, an ocean crashing against rocks, and the shrill warks of ---

“Did you hear that?!” Noctis nearly crashes into the back of the blonde who stops suddenly, hand raised in a call for silence. The wind roars in protest in their ears, picking up louder, Noctis tugging his hood against his cheeks. Prompto mistakes Noctis’ inability to hear for a lack of response, choosing instead to press forward along the path. The sun is not even halfway up the sky, yet Prompto’s neck already glows with a slight red tinge. He laughs as he rubs the crook of it where Noctis throws him a small bottle of sun screen.

The path leads them to the top of a hill as well as a set of uneven, rotting wooden stairs; one set leads downward to the single main street the small village possesses, another set branching off higher toward a thicket of dark green canopied trees.

“I guess you should be leading the way,” Prompto laughs nervously, hoping his cheery guise fools his best friend from discovering the uncertainty that lies beneath. Noctis nods, lowering his hood once more and brushing past him lightly to switch places.

“So, uh…I wanted this to be a surprise, and like, a graduation gift, too…” Noctis begins, timing his words carefully with the predictable clicks of Prompto’s shutter. He meets Prompto’s eye as he lowers his camera, whose cheeks fill with air before he laughs hysterically despite his attempt to quell the urge.

“Dude, you didn’t actually get me that fuckin’ car that dumb article was talking about, right?!”

“You really think I’d go through the trouble of buying you a car you’d only crash three days later?!” Noctis retorts smoothly, ducking Prompto’s playful swing at his head with the same smoothness.

“Whatever it is better be a hella close second to a brand new car, Noct!” Prompto mockingly warns, but Noctis cannot help but grab his hand, leading him up the last few wooden steps before they surface a thousand feet above sea level.

“No way, dude…” he disbelievingly beams, as dozens of chocobos of all colors surround them. The giant birds are docile, corralled behind wooden tracks and stables, some eating, some sleeping at the early hour. Noctis brings a hand to wave in front of his nose, the air in the trees thick and muggy with the underlying smell of fermented greens and chocobo scat. It does not seem to bother Prompto, who knocks Noctis’ hand out of the way and flings his arms around his neck, gripping him tightly in a genuine, heartfelt thank you.

Before Noctis can even capture Prompto in a grip of his own, he rushes off to nuzzle a nearby mother chocobo, Noctis placing his hands on his hips before coughing and waving his hands at the overwhelming stench once more.

“No way!” he shouts again from a few dozen feet away, waving wildly at Noctis. “Dude, dude, dude!”

Noctis waves as he places a few loose coins in a feed dispenser, capturing the avalanche of Gysahl Greens that fall from the spout in a burlap tote provided by the ranch. Other than the sparse handful of people who can be seen riding rented chocobos along the sandy shore a third of a mile below, the early Sunday morning hours leave the ranch secluded and unpopulated. An old man in a straw hat with leathery skin and beady, squinted eyes, sits in a chair next to the gift shop, raising a quiet hand to the two of them as they join together once more, Prompto and Noctis returning the gesture.

“Noct…” Prompto whispers as the two considerably slow their pace down, sticking a hand in the bag Noctis holds open. “How did you know?”

“’Cause I’ve like, met you once for longer than ten minutes?! How could anyone not know you love chocobos?” Noctis jokes, Prompto shrugging in resignation. “Can’t disagree with you there, I s’pose…” Prompto holds out his hand to a nearly grown dark blue chocobo who eagerly consumes the greens in his hand.

“How do they get them like that, the colors?”

“It’s just a breeding thing!” Prompto offers simply, Noctis just accepting the blonde’s word as gospel. “You know, I haven’t actually seen a chocobo outside of the zoo in Insomnia…”

“I know, you said you and your parents never really got outside of the crown city very often, so uh, I kinda thought…you know…” Noctis whispers, focusing his attention on the greens he offers to a puffy, black baby chocobo.

“Yeah, and it rocks, you rock,” Prompto nods, lowering his camera and looking Noctis dreamily in his eyes. “It makes my gift to you look mad lame, man…”

“Well, what is it?” Noctis asks hopefully, Prompto squatting to make sure he distributes the greens evenly between the entire set of rainbow siblings.

“It’s not finished yet,” Prompto hastily chirps in cryptic impatience. “You’ll see at your graduation party,” he tries to add with a bit more understanding.

“Well, I hope you like it,” Noctis dully emotes, the scene having played out much more ideally in his head; he’d hoped they would have been kissing again, so early into their excursion…

“Noct, don’t be weird, I love it…” Prompto softly instructs, the young man immediately failing to meet Prompto’s demands as he tenses slightly under Prompto’s embrace, though he drapes an arm over the blonde’s shoulder as they slowly walk the length of the tree top ranch.

Chocobos wark loudly from all directions, the blonde taking a few silent snapshots, clearly lost in his own head. While Noctis does not mind the silence due to his own complicated train of thought, the negative idea of Prompto being more uncomfortable with the excursion than pleased clings to Noctis’ nerves like a cat with its claws embedded in the bark of the forebodingly tall tree.

“For real, Prom, you’ve seemed a bit off all morning…” Noctis starts, hands in his pockets as Prompto flips through a few dozen snapshots; it is not as if he can find it within himself to personally blame him, for he can almost feel the blonde pointedly avoiding the topic of Friday night as much as he himself semi-deliberately does.

“I-I’m sorry, Noct…” Prompto finally sighs, leaning against a sturdy wooden beam that protects patrons from the deadly, six hundred foot cliff drop onto the ocean waves below.

_“Now is not the time…”_

“I just had another nightmare again…”

“Again?” Noctis sighs sympathetically, the cool, sea air lovely as it conjoins with the shade they enjoy. “They went away for the longest time…”

“Tell me about it,” Prompto groans exasperatedly, slumping his body further against the railing. Noctis leans his lower back against the same beam for support, dropping the duffel bag at his feet.

“I’m thinking about asking Luna what they might mean next time she sends a message my way,” Prompto explains, internally grateful Noctis does not ask about details regarding the nightmare’s contents.

“So you just _talk_ to Luna then?!” Noctis asks with a biting jealously before he can stop it; _“Why is she talking to him, but ignoring me?! Why is he talking to her?!”_

“She-she sends Umbra, every, uh --- every now and again, but um, last time she did was to request some pictures of her I took, but that was a while back, Noct, I swear…what I meant was, uh, that next time she has a message for me through Umbra, I’d ask…” Prompto tries to mediate the unavoidable tone of territorial stoicism he had rarely ever experienced from his best friend.

“Okay, but then you’re saying you and Luna have communications without me, then?!” Noctis implores further, his eyes darkening.

“I’m having a hard time understanding why it’s such a big deal that either I or her don’t consult you before talking?!” Prompto meets his friend in his caustic, accusatory implications, though his body still stays unaggressively relaxed against the fence. Noctis propels himself off the beam, stalking a few feet away from the blonde and folding his arms curtly. Prompto flings his arms up in silent exasperation before crossing them against his chest as well, readjusting his feet as they slip against the sleek, dewy grass.

“I get that you _like_ her, and all ---“

“It’s not even about that---!” Noctis snaps at Prompto’s underhanded quip, balling up his fists and turning to the blonde, teeth clenched.

“But you’re forgetting that her talking to me is the only reason why we’re here and together right now in the first place,” Prompto’s calm, even reminder does not undermine the fire in his blue eyes, the usual mirth behind them missing as he means to show Noctis he has little patience for such a tantrum.

“What gives you the right to just skip the line and talk to her, when you don’t have to deal with walls, or lineage, or ---?!“ Noctis demands, his own welling jealousy bringing his sentence to a halt as he swallows. The whole world appeared to be more worthy of an audience with the Oracle before him, the future King of Lucis, Banisher of the Darkness, the one who would see safe passage for Luna’s draining journey of selfless sacrifice. How was it that  _high school photographers_ were suddenly worth the correspondence before him? How was it that Prompto entrusted his worries unto her before him?

“I hope you know that you being a prince matters so painfully little to me that no amount of entitlement can justify the dumb stuff you’re saying right now,” Prompto cannot help but smile, albeit sadly, at Noctis, who quickly realizes the idiocy in his own thoughts. He merely sighs before lowering his gaze to his feet and shaking his head. “I haven’t talked to Luna in at least two months, and like I said, it was only because I sent her some photos; she’ll always see you way more fondly than she’ll ever see me---”

“You’re right, Prom, about all of it --- sorry…” Noctis admits, so emotionally on edge that although he cannot determine whether it was Luna talking to Prompto or Prompto talking to Luna that fueled his outburst, seeing his friend’s defensive tension lessen as Noctis approaches him once more is enough to quell the argument for the present time. A chocobo warks some fifteen feet away, the bird ruffling its entire body with a chaotic shuffle, puffing out its plumage as it showers Prompto in loose feathers.

The blonde eyes them as they flutter weightlessly into his hair, arms still limp in his lap as he blows the feathers away from the corner of his lips, Noctis laughing softly as he plucks the handful the pathetic gust misses out of his best friend’s hair.

“Guess your dream of looking like a Chocobutt’s come true,” Noctis jokes, laughing out loud as Prompto dumps a handful of the feathers into Noctis’ own hair, the two instantly play fighting as they laugh, dodging barrages of feathers they hurl at one another like avian grenades.

“Quit screwin’ around, you’ll scare my birds, boy!” the leathered old man hoots in a gravelly warning from the wooden gift shop, which more visitors crowd into as the hour of the morning grows later.

“You’re the real ass,” Prompto sticks his tongue out toward Noctis under his breath, Noctis plucking a final feather from Prompto’s shoulder.

“I am worried about Luna, though…” Noctis picks up again, his voice soft and apologetic.

“Why?” Prompto asks in the same careful tone, cuddling a fat, loose baby chick who pecks the ground before nuzzling into Prompto’s embrace.

“I dunno, she’s usually great about keeping in touch, but Ignis said no news is technically good news,”

“Yeah, and Ignis has a ballin’ track record for always bein’ right,”

“Mmm…” Noctis mutters, pushing thoughts of Luna to the side as him and Prompto slowly pick up their stroll once more. “So…uh…”

“Yeah?” Prompto affirms, lowering his camera.

“I guess you uh, don’t wanna talk about your nightmare?”

“Not right now…” Prompto admits bashfully. “It can wait, I’d rather just, you know, soak all this in…”

“Yeah, I get you, but --- uh, I kinda wanted to talk to you, a-about something…” Noctis swallows, stopping briefly before looking up at the sky to collect his thoughts.

 _“Friday,”_ Prompto nervously concludes in his head, placing his camera around his neck via the strap.

“I, uh --- I’m moving out of the Citadel, after---after graduation…”

“Oh?” Prompto asks, surprised and slightly disappointed they dance around the bloated, waterlogged corpse of Friday ever still.

“Yeah…and, uh…” Noctis sputters, scratching behind his neck; Prompto was often a breathtaking distraction for Noctis in school, but there were no assignments or chalkboards or workbooks on the seaside…

“You sure you’re gonna be able to handle it, dude?! That means cooking on your own, cleaning on your own, waking yourself up…” Prompto grins, giving Noctis a slight push as the prince pouts slightly.

“Pssht --- of course I can handle it, I just don’t feel like it, there’s a difference,”

“Well, looks like Iggy better pack up and move on in too, I wouldn’t wanna see your kitchen after a week!”

“Okay, so, it’s funny you say that,” Noctis starts enthusiastically, seeing his opening.

“’Sup?” Prompto asks curiously as Noctis joins him scratching a chocobo gently near its beak, the bird closing its eyes gleefully as it eavesdrops.

“I already talked to Ignis a-and, he --- he gave me the okay…”

“So you’ll have him as a roommate?” Prompto asks interestedly.

“No, uh --- he gave me the ok to, like…”

“Gladio movin’ in?”

“No…”

“What, to be a slob?”

“It’d be really cool if you moved in with me, Prompto!” Noctis barks so quickly, it takes until he turns to the blonde for Prompto to register that he had even spoken. Prompto faces his friend as he continues to nuzzle the chocobo, who glares in Noctis’ direction as he stops the worship of his sleek golden down.

“Wait a minute, uh --- Say what, Noct?!” Prompto demands disbelievingly, his eyes wide as he scans Noctis’ face for a hint of a jest, his fingertips scratching lazy, soothing circles into the chocobo who coos in pleasure.

“I really want you to move into my apartment with me…” Noctis explains breathily, running a nervous hand through his salty, sea-spray damp hair.

“Noct…” Prompto bites his lower lip, hands stationary though still gripped gently around the Chocobo’s neck.

“I got the okay from Iggy, is what I mean, like, I won’t charge you anything, I can easily cover everything on my own---”

“So then, I wouldn’t really be a roommate, so much as a…” Prompto stops, the tops of his freckled cheeks burning bright red as he strings the nervous fragments of Noctis’ suggestion together.

“…I mean, I dunno?! who needs labels, right?!” Noctis tries to handwave the rest of Prompto’s sentence with a lack of formality that completely fails.

“I’m moving into the Domus Aurea apartments…”

“Dude, those like, high rises way in the city center?!” Prompto drops both his hands and jaw, unable to contain the disbelief. The Domus Aurea apartments had only been recently erected in the last year. The sixty floor complex was a sleek black monolith against the Insomnia skyline, a simplistic jewel that contrasted tastefully with the ornateness of the Citadel. The only tenants as reported by the various news sources throughout Lucis were eccentric billionares, movie stars, and athletes.

“You mean the Domus Aurea Apartments, near the theater district?! I get you’re a prince and all, but how the hell can you afford to live there, without charging me rent, no less?” Prompto blinks twice as if the action would snap him away from the alternate reality he must have truly awoken into that morning. The two of them had often walked past the high rise in admiration after school or on weekends, fantasizing about the way they would lay out their admittedly separate apartments

“Trust me, dude, money’s far from the issue…” Noctis grumbles, the prince always having been very careful not to flaunt his wealth before his struggling friend. “But that’s not the point, forget all of that, I really, really wanna live with you…”

“Noct…” Prompto sighs, handing the chocobo who nibbles his ear affectionately with his beak another handful of greens. “Noct, look. I --- I want to, so bad…” Prompto explains, his voice and his feautres strained in anguish as he leans slightly back and groans.

“So why don’t you?! Ill help you move!”

“Noct,”

“Prom ---“

_“Now has to be the time, Prompto. You’ve known about what it all means; you know you cannot stay, that you and Noctis can never be anything more than friends. Not lovers, roommates, business partners, brothers --- friends. Luna knows. Ignis knows. Gladio knows. King Regis knows. Your parents know. Everyone, except Noctis.”_

“I got into Lestallum’s photography program!” Prompto tenses as he shouts, a woman and her son looking briefly toward them as they continue walking. Noctis furrows his brow at his friend, both of them completely silent save for the chocobo behind them, who pecks at a handful of Kupo Nuts an excited toddler dumps in his kennel.

“How long were you planning on waiting until telling me this?” Noctis asks in desperation, stepping closer toward his friend, who continues to look at the ground. “How long have you known for---?!”

“Since last night, dude, jeeze!” Prompto snaps, his own face scrunching in anger, jerking his shoulder and backing up slightly at Noctis’s aggression, the prince having clearly taken the news quite personally.

“So then that’s it, you’re going, then?!” Noctis’ voice cracks as he steps forward once more, growing angrier and angrier at the blonde who merely stands there, albeit with his jaw clenched and shoulders squared. “Your mind already made up?!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I, noctis?!” Prompto retorts with the same emotion, caring little for the mothers who cast them side eyes, hands over their children’s ears as their shouting match escalates. “Every single day it’s all pretty damn clear, dude! You have your duty, your fate, your life, your job, your future queen, your kingdom, your servants, your minders, your trainers! I have nothing here other than you, Noct!” Prompto vents, months worth of resentment toward it all coming forth as he must finally face his own fate head on.

“Sure, I move in, and we pretend like nothing’s changing, but it can’t stay that way! It may work for a summer, but what am I gonna do when it’s time for you to get off your ass?! Sit around in your place and play video games?! What’re you gonna do when it comes time to get married, have kids, keep the wall up, fight Daemons, haven’t you given any thought to this?!” Prompto hisses desperately at his friend, whose hands are completely white as they grip onto the wooden beam of the kennel, Noctis caring little for the splinters that dig into his sweaty palms.

“You sound just like ignis,” he spits darkly.

“Okay, but he’s not wrong, dude!” Prompto sighs, the ‘insult’ doing nothing to deter his focus.

“I know he's not. I was just hoping that --- that ---“

“We both know I’ll just distract you, or at least keep your focus away from what you need to do,” Prompto is not entirely sure if Noctis catches his implication.

“---I was hoping that I’d have more time to say goodbye,” Noctis growls, staring down at his feet.

“Noct, it’s not goodbye, I’ll --- I’ll come back for holidays, I’ll message you everyday, I’ll always send you pictures…” Prompto assures him kindly, taking the moment to approach him slowly, but Noctis backs away from him, finding little comfort in Prompto’s maudlin gestures.

“I’m so sick of this! When do I finally get a fucking choice in this?! Of when I lose my father, my friend, my life?!” he explodes, kicking a bucket with all of his power, Prompto glancing over his shoulder to make sure the old man takes no notice. “Funny how for fucking royalty I’m the least free or happy man on this whole island!”

“Noct…”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Prompto!” Noctis hisses through gritted teeth, clearly not interested in listening to what his friend has to say just yet.

“Dude, come on, Luna?!” Prompto sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. It was all so organized in his head; it was rehearsed to the point of impassive formalities. Prompto puts his own feelings aside to fulfil his own fated prophecy of sorts, though curtain call Noctis had not fought so hard for Prompto to remain by his side…

“S-she’s special to me, yeah, and I like her, a lot, even, I could marry her --- and-and shes really pretty and incredible, but…”

“But what?” Prompto cannot help but ask, deviating needfully from his carefully edited script. He shakes the tingling adrenaline from his body as Noctis offers no reponse, Prompto cocking a hip and folding his arms. “Noct, this is exactly what I mean, why I have to go; you’ve known this since March, when we first argued about this, and we’re here, it’s now, it’s crunch time dude,”

Prompto places his hands on Noctis’ shoulders, clapping them inspirationally.

“Look, I know that this is all pretty dire and dramatic, but that’s what happens when you’re a king in waiting, best friends with just some dude from high school…but I promise there’s no god or ring or crystal that’ll make it so we don’t stay best friends through it all, no matter how far apart or busy we get…”

“Is that it, then? Friends?” Noctis questions, Prompto slowly lowering his hands as his eyes meet Noctis’ his whole body going icy cold ---

“Whaddaya mean, dude---?” Prompto barely utters, neither of them blinking. Noctis shakes his head, drawing closer to his friend, Prompto thankful their earlier disagreement had passive aggressively pushed others onto the beach below.

“Look, I really, really like you, Noct…” is all Prompto trusts himself to say, the two of them plopping on a moist, wooden bench, hidden behind mossy trees and cattails.

“I’ve known about all this stuff that awaits me for way longer than you, so like, don’t get me wrong, I get what it all means, and I know Lestallum is your dream,” Noctis interrupts firmly. “…and I don’t wanna stop you from chasing them, and I know it sounds lame, but I’m really proud of you for getting in…”

“Thanks, Noct…” Prompto whispers sadly.

“But please don’t forget, Prom, I said a long time ago that I would do whatever I could to keep you here…I’ll pay to have the best professor there come teach you here…”

“Noct, that was a serious ass promise then, and it sure as hell is one now…” Prompto chuckles despite it all. “But could you imagine Ignis getting on your case for those kinds of monthly expenses?” he is happy to see Noctis crack a smile, Prompto himself doing all he can to not accept Noctis’ offer.

“Pff --- if they think I’m so serious and ready to take it all over, I can be serious and ready enough to not have Iggy audit me…” Noctis smugly jokes, both of their eyes darted on a snail who slowly slides up the middle of the bench. They sit in complete silence for a moment’s time, Prompto watching the foamy waves on a set of jagged brown rocks below, Noctis listening to their raucous crash as he closes his eyes in attempted meditation.

“When do you move in?” Prompto asks smally, Noctis inhaling, eyes still closed.

“June first, actually…”

“That’s next week, dude…”

“You still gonna be around for a house warming party?” Noctis attempts to put his own selfish desires aside in an attempt to revel in the simplicity of celebrating his friend’s major accomplishment. “By party, I mean like, me, you, Iggy, playin’ games and eatin’ food…”

“I should be, I --- I wouldn’t leave Lucis until June 5thish…”

“So that’s the date, huh?”

“I mean, nothing’s official, yet…I wanted to wait until we talked before I committed to anything…” Prompto aims his camera at the snail, who finally reaches the top of the bench.

“So then there’s still a chance…”

“Do me a deal, Prom…” Noctis starts with sudden seriousness, opening his eyes and facing his friend, who nods curiously.

“You spent June 1st through 5th with me, at my place; just to see if you’re sure you don’t wanna move in…”

“Noct, this is about way more than just my education…” Prompto rubs his face wearily with his hands, searching desperately for the appropriate words to express what should be incredibly obvious to them both.

“I’m worried that, apart from my distraction, us spending more time together will end up with more moments like Friday…” Prompto admits, rubbing his thumbs along his balled hands as they acknowledge said events for the very first time with words.

“Friday, yeah...” Noctis agrees quietly, Prompto shuddering.

“Yup,” Prompto whispers, ignoring his friend and bouncing his leg rapidly, staring up at the sky.  
“I’m really hungry…are you?” Noctis asks with a sheepish forcefulness behind the question, Prompto smiling slightly as the prince nervously addresses a towering palm tree in the complete opposite direction of where Prompto stands.

“I could, uh…definitely eat… yeah…” he replies disheartedly, lips parted slightly as he wishes to press the topic of Friday further, hoping to capture their elusive feelings in a proverbial jar, not letting them out until they are deciphered, dissected, and confronted.

“Hey, Noct?”

“Prom?”

“You’ve got butter on your ass,” Prompto says flatly, pointing to the melting yellow globs that streak up the thighs, butt and waist of his jeans, Noctis having sat on and crushed their entire lunch as he had merely plopped down on the duffle bag he’d initially placed on the bench in his careless frustration with their conversation.

Noctis twists his body to get a better look at his slathered lower body, his eyes widening before he leans backward, groaning loudly at The Six as Prompto laughs so loudly and so fully that he blocks out Noctis’ cruel agony with his own. He is happy to see Noctis’ own shoulders heaving with laughter at it all, Prompto catching up to his friend as they head down the secluded trail back toward the chocobo ranch.

“Is that a no on lunch, then?”

“We can get something in town, along with new pants, I guess…” Noctis groans, Prompto wiping his eyes at his ridiculous friend, their ridiculous feelings, desires, and lives.

“What’re we gonna do?” Prompto asks quietly through stomach cramps, winded as his laughter finally subsides. The two of them wave at the old man in his chair, who cranes his ancient, ribbed neck in an attempt to discern whether or not the prince had sat on a chocobo egg or not. Where Prompto merely questions about the short term solution to lunch, Noctis cannot help but see the greater picture, one he knows will eventually come exclude the one he loves, no matter how far forward they push it.

“Just deal with it one day at a time, I guess…”


	17. Graduation

“Can you believe it has only been thirty years since my own father had this portrait commissioned, Noctis?” Regis laughs, gesturing upward toward a mural that stretches at least ten feet wide and twenty feet high. Noctis admires a brown-haired, teenage Regis with a scepter in hand,  beardless and wrinkle free. The fluffy, black velour cloak that adorns his father’s shoulders is forever frozen mid swing, the crown of the prince atop his head. Noctis’ own grandfather matches Regis in formality, the two straight backed and staring off beyond them toward an unknown audience, the throne room backdrop alit with sunlight.

“We stood there for four hours while the painter worked his magic…and my father was nowhere near as kind to me…he insisted we get the portrait done the day of my graduation, rather than allowing your feet the break of scheduling yours on a different day,” he chuckles, Noctis smiling quietly beside him, looking up at his once strong father.

 _“How long will it take before I’m as grey and withered as you?”_ Noctis wonders with less humor than his father. The painted eyes of his father connect with Noctis' own. He reads the very same burdened expression as his own in the man’s face, his permanently tensed shoulder gripped under the hand of Noctis’ long, white haired grandfather.

“I think the royal gallery is probably the _only_ cool part of all of the burdens we have to bear…” Noctis chuckles, strolling over toward a portrait of a young Regis with his friends Weskham, Cid, and Cor; they are posed in handsome, inspirational readiness, heads held high.

“This one is my favorite,” Regis places a hand on Noctis’ shoulder, pointing toward a (barely) smaller but no less impressive portrait of an eight year old Noctis looking up at his father as he sits in his throne, Regis standing by his side and looking down at him lovingly. Both are dressed in black, the throne room illuminated by the light of a single candle in the night.

“I remember getting that one done…” Noctis nods. “Celebrating me waking up from my coma…”

“Indeed…” Regis clears his throat, clearly wishing to linger little on the memory.

“This one always has weirded me out,” he mumbles, referring to the largest portrait in the gallery, in which a beautiful woman in white endows four ailing men in shadow, swords jetting from their coiled hands down onto the tangled nightmare of Daemons below.

“Hopefully one you will never have to consult in your lifetime, Noctis…”

Noctis is taken aback by the sound of his father’s cracking voice --- he quickly turns around to see the King too, stares up at the portrait, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Forgive me, I suppose some tolls upon the King can be emotional as well as physical…” Regis nods, Noctis turning away from the portrait, his father’s emotional breach causing tears to well up in his own eyes.

“I want you to know that there will not be a father prouder of his son at your graduation tonight,” Regis insists, and Noctis cannot help but mentally name at least four other deserving sons in his grade, ones who can most likely pick up their clothes when asked, eat their vegetables, and who do not refuse to face their futures like cowards…

“I love you, dad,” is all Noctis chooses to translate loosely from his thoughts.

“And I you, Noctis. I know the road ahead seems daunting, especially with dear Prompto rushing off to Lestallum, but know that both he and I will always be with you, no matter how lonely your isolated status may leave you to feel…”

 

* * *

The auditorium is humid and clammy. Mumbling bodies sit with the corners of their shoulders pressed against those of strangers. The girls of his class are beautiful, in white, the boys handsome, in black. Their parents and friends are an uncoordinated palette of the rest of the color spectrum, blue ties against purple shirts, orange shoes against yellow slacks. The visual clash makes him sick. The off-white banner displayed above on the catwalk is tied tightly in a slight unevenness only he notices, because he stares at it so much. Bright red words display the message, _“Good luck to our beloved seniors!”_ upon it. Noctis reads it multiple times as he waits for his cue. The spotlights above blind him, blue and white balls of flashing watercolor stealing his sight away.

He shifts slightly, his hands gripped on either side of the wooden podium. He wears the raiments he wore the day of the ceremony; Hadrian had left his suit to wither, forgotten in a pile of mildew and mothballs ( _“Perhaps it is time you retire, my old friend; you have earned it,”_ Regis kindly suggested).

He dons a thin, rose gold weaving of sturdy, intertwined silver, the prince’s crown of the Caelum Crown Jewels. His own father, together with his glaives, Clarus Amicitia, Iris, Talcott, Jared, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto’s parents, take up the entire upper balcony. Prompto, however, opts to stand in the walkway, his large camera blocking all of his face but his smile as he snaps what is an assuredly perfect picture of the Prince of Lucis.

Prompto’s well fitted black suit frames him flatteringly, marking him as the most breath taking person Noctis had ever seen. He eyes him longingly as Prompto lowers his camera, his blue eyes bright and vibrant in the dim, golden light against the red, velvet seating. He waves at Noctis before crouching ever slightly in an attempt to divert attention from himself.

 _“You can do it, Noct!”_ Prompto mouths before giving him a thumbs up, Noctis envisioning himself walking wordless off the stage and down the aisle, wrapping his arms around every possible inch of his friend and kissing him gently.

The audience is all that stops him. They are nosy, gossiping, and far from understanding of the fact that he has less than a week with the young man he loves.

 _“How funny’d it be if the Nifs invaded during graduation?”_ Noctis wonders to himself as he scans the crowd, Maximus refusing to meet his eyes. _“How funny’d it be if they came just for you, you fucking prick,”_

 _“It wouldn’t be,”_ his mental interpretation of Ignis’ voice interrupts, his teeth gliding over his light pink lips nervously, Prompto watching his prince proudly as he motions to take his first words.

“Good evening, everyone,” he begins, swallowing nervously. Everyone is silent. His father’s smile from above is unmissable, and gives him both courage and fear. “It’s truly incredible that I get to stand before you all, not as prince of this Kingdom, but as your classmate, friend, and Valedictorian,”

He cannot stop himself from smiling sheepishly as Philo shouts _“We love you, Noct!”_ from somewhere in the crowd, a teacher jumping and instantly going to reprimand him. “I know a lot of you probably felt like there were things I could have done better, or differently during my short time here…” he starts, deviating from his practiced speech with Ignis, who rises from his seat and waves his hands widly down at Noctis. “Or that I could have been nicer, kinder, but know that I will take every lesson learned from all of you and see to it that I do you all justice as your King in Waiting…”

He finds himself unable to look at anyone but Prompto, who watches him too, camera lowered against his chest.

“You’ve shaped me into someone I never knew I could ever become in such a short amount of time. When I proposed the idea of public school to my father, the King, I don’t think either of us knew how much my life would change because of how amazing you are. I’d give anything to just freeze it all, so nothing could ever ail us, or come between us, but as my father said to me not too long ago, rarely are the true wishes of kings ever granted. It hurts; a lot, even. I thought I was ready for it all to end, for my chance to prove how regal I could be, but I would not mind if time slowed down, just a little, and just for a while, so I could tell you how much you mean to me. I know time will pass regardless of whether we are ready for it or not, and I know that duty calls, and fate beckons. I know that we must part ways, so things must be as they must, but know that I will never forget you, and…”

 Noctis chokes a little, pausing before continuing. “…I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to see to it that my legacy continues in the vein of maintaining your health, happiness, and wealth. We will be apart, but my connection with you will be no less strong, my commitment to you no less genuine; I have nothing but high hopes for you and your future, not as your future king, but once more, as Noctis…we did it, guys,” he smiles, his classmates erupting in cheers as they stand up and celebrate, particularly at the last line. He does not care that Maximus and his friends stay defiantly seated. He shakes the hands of various faculty members before bowing deeply before his classmates, smiling as he wanders slowly down the steps toward Prompto.

Wary of some of their classmates’ stares as they stand nervously before one another, Prompto nods quietly at his friend, the look in Noctis’ dark grey eyes confirming to him that the prince’s well-crafted goodbye had been aimed at no one else but him.

* * *

“How many condiments does Prompto have on that burger…?” Ignis whispers to Gladio, who licks greasy morsels of salt off his thick, slippery fingers.

“I’d say about five…” he grunts in matching quietness, Prompto taking another chomp out of his burger. A thick rainbow of saucy sludge falls onto the face of Kenny Crow on the tray with a nauseating _plop_. Noctis laughs at his friend, bits of chewed burger flying out of Prompto’s mouth as Noctis pinches the waxy edges of a small white ketchup cup, knocking it back like a shot of liquor.

“Did he just---?!”

“Yup,” Gladio curtly interrupts, closing his eyes momentarily before he too, strains the corners of his mouth in order to fit a reasonable bite of the burger into his mouth. Ignis, who had insisted upon a salad, had been unpleasantly surprised when Prompto, who’d gone up to the counter to order on behalf of the royal party, had brought him back the largest burger he had ever seen in his entire life.

Ignis sits slightly squished on the inside of his booth by Gladio, shifting nervously as he goes to take another bite of his burger. The white wall against which he forcibly rests is splattered in long dried, amber streaks of rogue grease, the checkered floor refusing to let go of the soles of his shoes as they squelch with each small movement he makes.

A child in a high chair a few booths over smacks his hands widly in the muck of mayonnaise upon his tray. He brings the hands to rub just as absentmindedly upon his dirtied t-shirt, then taking the plastic cup and teething upon it passionately.

“How do you like it, Iggy?!” Prompto asks excitedly, shoving at least twelve French fries into his mouth at once, Ignis’ auburn eyes quivering as he surveys his own personal hell.

“Well…” he gulps from acid reflux, Gladio patting his best friend’s back. “The onion rings were truly quite delicious, I must concede…”

“And the burger?” Noctis questions too, Ignis wincing as an avalanche of Thousand Island dressing trickles onto Noctis’ front. “Come on, Iggy, it’s fine! My coronation party isn’t until, like, August…”

“ _Tasty_ , albeit the tastes themselves are hardly distinguishable from one another. I’d quite like it if I could taste each ingredient individually, and I much prefer raw onions to carmelized ones upon a burger. That being said, the light butter dusting on the bun, mixed with the steaming, is a very simple yet delectable move. I also love the garlic mayonnaise, though I could have used a _sixteenth_ of what’s on here,”

“I think it’s good!” Prompto adds dully at the end of Ignis’ rant, Noctis and Prompto shouting excitedly when Gladio takes the remaining third of his massive burger and consumes it all in one bite. He rubs his stomach before grinning toothily at Ignis, who scowls and plucks an onion ring from the steam-soaked bag they’re kept in.

“Whatever, I think Kenny’s is a real ass choice every now and again,” Gladio offers, Noctis sucking down the last of his fudge sundae and slouching against the curved slope of the booth, undoing the botton of his raiment slacks.

“They key words there definitely being _every now and again_ …” Ignis mumbles.

“You can thank Prompto for it --- he was the one who showed it to me,”

“Dude, I lost a lot of weight when I stopped eating here everyday,” Prompto jumps, Ignis taking a bite of his burger, kicking Noctis under the table playfully as he laughs at his advisor.

“I have a hard time believing _that_ one,” Ignis scoffs sarcastically, placing the burger back in its wrapper. “It’s quite nice as a once-in-a-while guilty pleasure, when the itch for filthy food just _needs_ to be scratched --- though I would not suggest one jumps head first into a twelve course meal here if they’re used to cleaner food…” he adds, rubbing his own abdomen. “I do think I’ll have to take mine home to finish tomorrow,”

“Still beats a royal dinner, well, the royal, not the dinner part…” Noctis breathes through a full stomach. “I’m not lettin’ anyone but Iggy touch the menu at my coronation ceremony…”

“We’d still have another four hours to go if we made the graduation dinner a serious affair,” Gladio agrees. “There isn’t a person alive whose food I’d rather eat before Iggy’s, but I gotta admit, Noct’s shout for a chiller dinner tonight is a lot more entertaining,”

“Still sad Iris couldn’t come,” Prompto sighs, Noctis moodily choosing to pretend he didn’t hear his friend’s comment as he dips a fry into a cup of barbecue sauce.

“She’s got a couple senior girlfriends she’s sayin’ goodbye to tonight, she’ll be seein’ plenty of Noct as life goes on,” Gladio explains before checking his phone. “So, what’re you boys plannin’ on doin’ with your first night of summer?”

“Noctis will be gathering his belongings to prepare for his move into his apartment this weekend,” Ignis answers solemnly for the prince, whose mouth still hangs open as he attempts to answer the question for himself. “Yeah, _tomorrow_ ,” he adds, folding his arms.

“I’m gonna help him carry stuff, uh, t-tomorrow, I guess…” Prompto adds, slumped in his seat as well. As Noctis had walked with Prompto onto the upper balcony where the royal party sat to view the rest of the graduation ceremony, their knowing look toward one another left Prompto certain that Noctis had finally come to understand what was meant for their friendship. With the calendar day marked May 28th, Noctis could not help but mourn that merely a week between them remained.

Prompto was surprised that Noctis had let the subject go so easily; albeit the two had lacked the personal time to express their worries and final bargains against the will of The Six. Gladio, who had been kept in the know regarding Prompto and his feelings along with Ignis, nods his head and rubs his forehead wearily.

“So then, video games, I take it?” Gladio recovers, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

“Video games?” Noctis asks Prompto quietly, the blonde nodding in response to the slight sadness he reads on Noctis’ face.

“Video games…” he agrees. Instantly their moods change. Prompto, who had up until the point of their crossroads, done well at facing the burden ahead, cannot refrain from replaying Noctis’ touching speech in his head. Although an argument could be made that he addressed everyone has he technically had, Prompto knew the message was reserved for him.

“You will want to monitor the hour you go to bed,” Ignis suggests, wincing as the child from befor slams the empty cup against the ground with a shocking _thwack_. “The less time I’ll have to spend waking you two up in the morning, the less time we’ll need to waste getting Noct moved in,”

Noctis does not respond. He opts instead for watching taxis and busses pass by, absentmindedly watching cycles of pedestrians cross as the green cactuar signals to them safe passage. _“These are all your people,”_ Noctis notes with a surrealness, and for the first time in his life, Noctis understands why his father appears thirty years beyond his age; if everyone of “his” pedestrians who had walked by counted for a month off Noctis’ life in exchange for their safety, his tomb would have long since been erected. Yet he guiltily wishes to no God in particular to trade all of their livelihoods for more time with Prompto, begging the crystal to name a random man or woman who passes by the window worthy of the name of Lucis Caelum, so that he may instead have his friend by his side for the rest of his life.

“Mmm…” Prompto disinterestedly concedes; he twirls a soggy, cold fry in a disguting mix of relish, ketchup, and barbecue sauce --- Noctis stabs holes into a tomato with a fork, his cheek sliding out of the hand that props him up.

“I’ll go get the bill…” Gladio mumbles, Ignis sighing, sure to hoist himself so his bottom does not slide along the filthy booth, ruining his suit.

* * *

“It’s weird, seeing your room like this…” Prompto sighs, the whole thing suddenly massive and bare. All but his bed is packed away in sturdy crates bearing the Caelum crest, the prince’s entire bedroom floor visible, for once. Where before stray socks and shirts and ties and papers from both of them used to peramently dirty Noctis’ floor, not even dust filters in and out of the setting sun’s rays. His black and silver, ornamental wall paper seems so much more kingly without reference posters and maps from school litering it. The grandfather clock stands as the only remaining monument as proof that he had ever lived there.

His bathroom and closets are completely packed away, Prompto closing his eyes sadly at the sight.

“Don’t you think it’s a little extreme? I mean, it’s not like you won’t ever be back at the castle --- you’re gonna be _king_ in a few months, you can’t just live in a bachelor pad for the rest of your life…”

“I think dad wants me to come back here during the day for official business, but spend some time on my own before I move back in,” Noctis explains, every other word muffled behind the sound of him carelessly tossing bathroom supplies in a box labeled in Ignis’ handwriting as _“clothing – trousers”._

Prompto hands him an armful of clean, folded towels, Noctis thanking him quietly as he allows his hand to linger on Prompto’s an unnecessary few extra seconds before putting them too, in the box. The two of them had still refused to discuss the events of the carnival a week ago. It had been so long since then, Prompto muses, that he often wonders if that brief moment had ever happened at all.

Noctis’s laughter draws Prompto from his melancholy. The blonde goes to sit where a dark grey armchair usually sat next to the window, though now, with the removal of most of his furniture, he merely plants blunty onto the floor, nearly cracking his tailbone.

“Not funny, Noct…”Prompto hisses, standing up and limping his way over to his friend, who snorts a little as he watches Prompto soothe his lower back.

“Pretty funny, Prom…” he retorts, the blonde shaking his head as he grabs his pajamas and a towel from off Noctis’ bed, wanting to shower before going to bed.

 _“May we come in?”_ Ignis’ muffled voice inquires on the other side of the wooden door, Noctis replying with a light _“yeah,”_ as he actually manages to fold a handful of shirts he intends to leave behind nicely, placing them into a dresser. The door creaks open as Gladio and Ignis shuffle in, their shirts loosened as the formal occasion is now over.

“Your pops says goodnight to both you and Prompto, and sorry that he couldn’t stay up to greet you two personally,”

“It’s only just now nine o’clock…and how did he know Prompto would be here?” Noctis notices, frowning as he folds and turning to face them worriedly.

“Your father is growing ever wearier, I’m afraid,” Ignis chimes in. “Ever wearier, though his memory is still fresh, thus he is perfectly capable of remembering that these walls often house Prompto a good seventy five percent of the time…”

Noctis scoffs, smiling sarcastically, his legs still crossed as he sits upon the floor. “Dad’s getting so worn down, he can’t even stay up past nine…what an ending to my night, huh?” he curses, shaking his head angrily. “Guess I’m just glad he was able to make it at all…”

“Do not be cross with your father, Noct…”

“I’m not _angry_ with him, I’m…I’m just scared…” he sighs, staring hopelessly at the carpet.

“It’s alright to be scared, Noct, all of us are a little uncertain what summer’s gonna bring to our _proverbial_ doorstep…” Gladio explains comfortingly.

_“I just --- ugh…”_

“You did your old man real proud up there, tonight…” Gladio assures him in an attempt to get Noctis to focus on the good regarding Regis. “Although, based on Iggy’s freak out, seems like you deviated from the plan a bit…” he chuckles, Ignis rolling his eyes as an explanation tumbles forth from his mouth quickly.

“We spent the better part of this week drafting the original speech! And while I must say your _impromptu_ address was indeed quite touching and well said, I’d highly appreciate it if you could at _least_ give me a list of alternate topics that may pop in to mind the next time we have an upcoming speech in the future…”

“Sure…” Noctis grins slightly, Gladio looking about the room wildly. “Where’s Prompto? If you actually tried packin’ him into one of these boxes, I’m gonna break my foot up your ass…”

“He’s showering!” Noctis answers quickly, blushing as their momentary silence leaves the shower water hitting the ceramic floor audibly through the closed bathroom door.

“I hope you don’t think my following question too direct, Noct, but where exactly did inspiration for your unrehearsed speech come from?” Ignis addresses Noctis’ back, the prince still on the floor, though Gladio silently elbows Ignis and points to the closed bathroom door.

“I doubt the senior class caught on, but to me, it was pretty obvious…good thing we had a media ban on the event…good call, Iggy…” Gladio whispers, Ignis settling with the lack of reponse from the young man upon the floor in favor of Gladio’s highly likely one.

“I take it you boys aren’t in the mood for your _video games_ , then?” Ignis tries again, his cheeks puffy as he blows air through them quietly, his eyebrows raised, hands on his hips.

“I think we’re just gonna call it an early night, too…” Noctis whispers flatly; if they too, went to bed at nine, with all their youth, then certainly Regis’ decision to retire seems so much less unreasonable.

“Well, you uh…you did a lovely job up there, Your Highness, and congratulations to you both for graduating,” Ignis bows, Noctis groaning loudly. “Stop bein’ weird, Iggy…” he tries to smile, all three of them turning to look at the bathroom as the door opens, Prompto yawning. Ignis recognizes the black shirt the blonde wears to be one of Noctis’ (he’s collected enough of the prince’s laundry to last him a lifetime), quick to avert his eyes away from his tight, bright pink moogle boxers.

“Nice job graduating, Prompto!” Ignis awkwardly congratulates the blonde, eyes scrunched shut. Gladio shakes his head at them all.

“Thanks, Iggle-Biggle…” he grabs a pair of tonberry long johns, stretching them over his lean, muscular legs. Gladio laughs at Prompto’s nickname, Noctis collecting his own pajamas out of an open crate and leaning against the bathroom door.

“Good night, you two; we’ll see you in the morning bright and early for movin’, alright?” Gladio waves, Prompto nodding as he sits cross legged on Noctis’ bed, Noctis offering a kind “good night,” to them both before heading into his bathroom himself.

“Lemmie see your foot,” Gladio adds quickly to Prompto, who sticks a fresh, clean foot out for Gladio, the bruenette scratching his chin as he observes the nearly healed scar. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I can run on it fine, but the scar’s gonna be there a while, I think…” Prompto sighs, a dark shadow of slightly rougher skin zig zagging its way across the length of Prompto’s sole. “I’m gonna miss you guys, you know…” he whispers, Gladio letting out a soft “mm…” before standing up and looking at Prompto with him arms folded, rough features crestfallen. “We’ll miss you too, Blondie…all of us, not even just Noct…but no need for goodbyes now, we’ll see you two in the morning, okay?”

“Right,” Prompto nods, Noctis’ door closing with a soft snap as Gladio leaves. Prompto fans himself slightly, the air of early June slightly too oppressive to lack a fresh breeze. He hops out of bed, messing lightly with a thermostadt, Noctis coming out of the bathroom freshly bathed as Prompto gets comfortable in his best friend’s bed once more.

Noctis, dressed in only a pair of white and grey striped linen lounge pants, grabs a sleeveless white undershirt and throws it over his head before hopping into bed as well. Prompto nuzzles under the light sheets (the blankets are packed away), watching the drops of water fan out through the ribbed fabric of the undershirt.

They say nothing for a good while, Noctis taking a moment to silently answer all of the good wishes texts he received throughout the day. Prompto goes through his photos, though where Noctis sits up, his eyes narrowed in casual moodiness, Prompto lies flat against the bed, his eyes heavy with sudden exhaustion and emotion.

Nearly all of the photos were of himself with various classmates, groups of friends, or Noctis with other classmates. A few portraits of teachers also sprinkle his collection. As the roll goes further into the day, the seniors shed their uniforms for their evening attire. He smiles soundlessly at the picture of him and Noctis, arms around each other’s shoulders, standing before Regis and his royal entourage, and Prompto’s parents. He marks the picture as special in his camera’s memory.

_“I’ll print that and add it to the ones to put up on my dorm wall…”_

“Can you believe I actually got Ignis to take us to Kenny Crow?” Noctis asks disbelievingly, putting down his phone and nestling under the sheets himself.

“Literally what the hell, man?! How’d you get him to agree?!” Prompto puts his camera on the table and rolls over to face his friend, thankful to see Noctis grins; he is happy to pretend no true changes await them, at least for the duration of the night.

“I don’t even know, I just suggested it when he asked, and he agreed,” Noctis shrugs.

“He seemed to like it!” Prompto chuckles, Noctis nodding before yawning.

“Even though he could barely admit it,” Prompto yawns contagiously as well. “Gladio’s clearly eaten there before,”

“Yeah, Iggy looked _hella_ betrayed when he saw Gladio didn’t need to look at a menu before ordering,” Noctis laughs, though it trails off as they make eye contact, both of them facing one another, hands snaked around their pillows.

“Hey, uh…did you see Luna? Anywhere in the crowd?” Noctis asks worriedly, Prompto pursing his lips and extending a hand to grab his camera from the table.

“Okay, so…I didn’t see _her_ …” Prompto mutters, flying through his camera’s display as he attempts to find the picture he suddenly remembers. “Check this out, dude…” Noctis takes the bulky apparatus into his hand. Prompto managed to snap a poignant picture of Noctis mid sentence in his speech, his brow handsomely furrowed in kingly confidence, the glitter of his crown catching the light artistically. His eyes widen as just over his shoulder, behind the thick, sapphire blue, velvet curtains pulled to the side, Gentiana stands with her hands clapsed, flanked on either side by Pryna and Umbra.

“Who the hell is she?” Prompto asks breathlessly, Noctis’ eyes lingering on the photo his friend managed to skillfully capture. “She definitely wasn’t there during the speech, and I would have seen Umbra, or the other dog…”

“That’s…that’s Gentiana, Luna’s sort of bodyguard, I guess…” Noctis explains, slightly unnerved. “If you think Luna and her dogs are space cadets, Gentiana’ll _really_ zone you out...”

“All I know is, if you show me one more babe you seem to be on first name basis with, one of them is getting swept up by me, man…” Prompto promises, admiring the grace and beauty of the black haired woman before putting his camera up away once more.

“Good luck takin’ them back to your bed…” Noctis grins; Luna had seen his graduation in her own way, he was thus certain to hear from her tomorrow.

“You not takin’ this bed over to the apartment, then?” Prompto asks lightly, though their moods instantly change at the topic of the move, the apartment, the future, reflecting that they feel anything but.

“Nah, we bought one for the apartment last week --- plus like you said, it’s not like I’m not comin’ back here eventually, so I gotta have somewhere to sleep when I'm around, or when I do decide to move back in…”

“Yeah…” Prompto agrees, closing his eyes. He tries to commit the grey tassles of the velvet black canopy above to memory, the flowery, subtle smell of his laundry detergent, the way the plush yet firm mattress bent under the shape of his body (Prompto had always taken the right side, near the towering window).

“It’s gonna be real hard sayin’ goodbye to this bed, dude…” Prompto stretches, eyes closed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’d be willin’ to bet I’ve spent more time in _it_ than in my _own_ bed this quarter!” Prompto laughs, opening his eyes slowly, Noctis sitting up and looking down at his comfortable friend.

“I think you might be right…” Noctis clenches his teeth and raises his eyebrows at the thought he barely utters out loud.

“You get your furniture picked out?” the blonde asks, rolling over against the gentle, dark grey sheets. Noctis futily attempts to hide his sense of disappointment at the question, for he hoped to pick it out together with Prompto. He swallows his bitterness, not wishing to derail their otherwise pleasant conversation.

“I’ve got some stuff already moved in from the castle, but nothing really…but what about you? You know, for Lestallum…” Prompto cannot ignore either his friend’s strained voice at the question, nor the question itself, for they look right at the other.

“I still have to pack, actually…” Prompto stretches, his hands skidding underneath the pillow.

“Then after you help me move in tomorrow, I’ll help you pack…”

“Okay…” Prompto turns away quickly, grabbing his phone and burying his face in it to hide his brief inability to continue the conversation.

“So, uh…I’ve been giving it all a lot of thought, Prom…” Noctis begins, taking the phone out of the blonde’s hands and setting it on the table. This catches Prompto’s attention, for he sits up as well, the two of them completely drained as they maintain eye contact.

“I realized a few months ago that the only reason why all of this is the way it is, is because no one in the history of my family has ever stopped to say that enough was enough…”

“I doubt _that_ , Noct, I think it’s more of an issue that it can _never be_ enough…”

“Either way, I’ll make time for you, Prom; I dunno how the ring’s gonna affect me, or what kinda war or peace is gonna be on my side or whatever, but I won’t lose myself to it the way my ancestors have...we can video chat everyday, okay?” Noctis adds hopefully, the two of them instantly brightening as Prompto sits halfway up, gripping his pillow, his smile barely visible, but _there_.

“A-and, I’ll send an escort to pick you up by airship every weekend, and you can spend it in Insomnia, with me…”

Prompto, who is so desperate for any hope for their future, that where he would have once insisted Noctis would be too busy, allows himself to run with their dreamy fantasy, a fantastical and whimsical goodbye.

“Yeah but, how much would it cost, bro? I don’t have airship money!”

“Pff, _who cares_ , Prom…I’ll have the airship deployed by time your Friday classes are over, and you’ll be in Insomnia Friday evening…”

“And getting back? My classes start early on Monday!”

“You’ll be back by late Sunday; it’s only a three hour flight with the airship…”

“Ooo, ooo, ooo! How about we alternate weekends?!” Prompto abruptly suggests with such enthusiasm he knocks a pillow onto the floor. “I come out, then you come out to Lestallum!”

“I’ve never been to Lestallum, actually…”

“I’ve been doin’ all kinds of research! It’s really hot there, apparently, and the women are the breadwinners there, and they walk around in bathing suits because of the heat!”

“Are you gonna be able to even focus on schoolwork?” Noctis scoffs, raising a smug eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah! As if any of them would ever talk to me anyway,”

“Well, who cares, ‘cause I’ll talk to you, and we can hit the beach, get some good ass food…”

“It’s all spicy there!” Prompto adds.

“We can ditch Ignis at the market, Gladio’ll probably go to the club…you know, it all sounds like a good ass deal…only problem is, my bed’s gonna be _way_ comfier than your dorm room one…”

“…All the more reason to stay in yours, Noct…” Prompto finishes sadly, the blonde mentally plummeting violently back to reality, impaled by the spiked harshness of truth.

“ _Okay_ , but --- and I know we’ve talked about it, and I know your mind’s made up, and I know Lestallum is incredible for you, and you’re gonna be the world’s best photographer, my best friend, _the best photographer_ , and I know that it just won’t work after August, or _whatever_ …” Noctis wrestles with the various arguments against them that voicelessly slash at his thoughts.

“…But I’m perfectly cool with you movin’ in, and --- holy _shit_ , Prom! I’ve got it!” Noctis shouts, looking over his shoulder to make sure his outburst doesn’t wake the others, even if they are a wing away. “I know how you can stay, how I can stay focused, how we can make it all work, hear me out!”

“Got what, Noct?!” Prompto guffaws, laughing at his somewhat hysterical friend.

 _“Join my Crownsguard!”_ Noctis suggests ecstatically, putting his hands on Prompto’s shoulders and shaking him excitedly.

“Your Crownsguard…?” Prompto whispers, shaking his head and growing lightheaded at the suggestion alone. “I can’t, dude! Gladio and Ignis are like, _actually trained_ and combat ready…I’m just Prompto the picture guy!”

“Uh, you got the ceremonial daggers because you passed the training, Prom! And you’re joining my Crowsguard, not my Kingsglaive! My Crownsguard are just my own personal retainers and staff, and sure, Gladio is _technically_ my bodyguard, and Ignis is technically my advisor ---“

 _“What would I even do?!”_ Prompto chuckles, sitting up as Noctis flings his sheets off of him, rummaging around in a crate labeled _“Prince shit”_ in his own handwriting, versus Ignis’.

“Here, take a look at this…” Noctis mumbles, shoving browned and withered scrolls into Prompto’s hands, who snaps his fingers (those too, he will miss, he registers sadly) to turn on the lights. He fumbles for his contacts on the bedside table, Noctis wincing as he places them back in his eyes before reading the fading ink on the dogeared parchment.

“You probably shouldn’t be shoving these away in a box, Noct…”

“Okay, okay, but just read it! Ignis gave this to me months ago to look over; apparently these are the original decrees establishing the Crownsguard from hundreds of years ago; I was supposed to read over them and have them selected, but uh…” Noctis trails off guiltily, Prompto taking the papers gently with raised eyebrows as he goes to read.

“The Crownsguard are an elite group of Lucian soldiers --- okay, time out, dude…” Prompto sighs brusquely, his expression stoic and unamused. “I’m definitely not elite, I already don’t make the cut; I’ve had like, _three_ words with that Cor dude, and two of them I had salami up my nose ---“

“Pff – yeah…” Noctis chuckles at the memory. “Like I said, I’ve selected Ignis, and he’s good and all with some arms, but like, don’t take the text literally. My dad and Ignis both said that it’s probably for the best that I make my Crownsguard composed of all kinds of strengths,”

“Okay, and what are mine?!” Prompto snaps, his heart beating in his throat, for he finds himself searching frantically for a loophole that grants him a place in the hall of warriors and kings, by Noctis’ side both in life and in history. He curses himself, for his months’ worth of hard work of steeling resolve unravels by the single, loose, stray thread Noctis managed to agitate at the very last second, the last thread that may yet keep Prompto in Insomnia.

“You’re actually _really_ good with guns, dude…I’m not just sayin’ whatever!” Noctis immediately corrects, for Propmto smiles sarcastically at his flushed friend. “Gladio and Ignis were talkin’ last week about it, no shit; archery, too --- you’re really good with crossbows and stuff!”

“You know what’s funny? I took archery at Lucian Friends for my gym class…” Prompto snorts, throwing his hands up in wild disbelief. “Who would have thought that shit would have _actually_ been _useful?_ ”

“Okay, so, Ignis is Polearms and daggers, Gladio’s broadswords and shields, and you’re archery and firearms!”

“Okay…” Prompto nods slowly, trying to keep up with Noctis’ flighty thought process.

“And Ignis’ non battlefield strength is political science and nutrition, Gladio’s is teaching me survival and life skills, and yours can be public relations and Royal photographer!”

“Dude, stop...” Prompto shakes his head, his smile widening despite the signal he sends. “Everyone’s gonna be able to see right through it, man!”

“Good thing Ignis has been hounding _me_ to pick _my_ Crownsguard --- it’s my decision, Prompto, and mine alone…”

“Noct…” Prompto whispers; within the span of five minutes he finds the definitive certainty of the June 5th deadline, the looming dorm room deposit, and the accepted offer of admission to Lestallum no longer inarguable, but even undesirable. He curses how much he loves the one who sits before him, the two of them having kicked their exhaustion and the sheets away. They quietly scan the documents together, shifting as their restless tension makes it impossible to lie still for too long.

“Look, even _Luna_ wants to make you her personal photographer…”

“Yeah, I know…” Prompto whispers, shuddering as he imagines himself documenting the beautiful woman nude and suggestive in her ivory bedroom in Tenebrae. “Too bad for the Niffs there, huh…” he nearly drools.

“I don’t think you get how important that job is! Dad was like _‘if you have enough time to be on your phone all the time, you have enough time to make official social media accounts for the Caelum family, Drautos is too busy to do it lately,’_ ”

“I mean, you can _make_ the accounts, but I’d definitely let Iggy write the posts…” Prompto beams.

“But you can, not Iggy! You can take the photos, write the articles and the suff! And the Spring Festival was so incredible Prom, I know Iggy and dad would be really into you organizing any of our public, or even private royal events!” Noctis adds, Prompto nodding in agreement; the blonde did love event planning.

“And like I said, it’s not as if your parents wouldn’t be proud of their son being a part of the Crownsguard!”

“You’re definitely right there, dude!” Prompto drags his hands down his cheeks. “I’d have my own bust, my own royal portrait, I’d be next to you in your _own_ royal portrait!” Prompto gasps from the sudden realization. “But…like ---we can’t just keep goofin’ off, we have to get serious, you have a Kingdom to run…“

“I know, and we will be serious, and don’t forget, the Crownsguard obviously pays really well. _And_ I’m sure there’s a pension, and your family would have royal protection too, and you’d have royal status --- I’ll talk to Ignis about it all…”Noctis trails off, scratching behind his neck and putting down the papers. “And, I mean, you could live where you _want_ , really…but…”

“It _would_ be ideal for a member of the Crownsguard to live in with the prince at all times…” Prompto concurs, unable to believe he allows himself to fall prey to such forbidden uncertainties, his skin tingling as Noctis slides closer to his friend so that he may better hear his breathy mumblings. “But wouldn’t Gladio be better f-for that? He’s the a-actual shield…” the blonde stutters, leaning back against the bed as Noctis too, lies down next to him, his upper half propped up by his elbow.

“Like I said, any member of my Crownsguard is trained, so…”

_“Right…”_

“And a gun’s gonna win out against a sword in a fight…”

“Not when you can throw your swords and fly around…” Prompto plays devil’s advocate, scrunching up his brow. “But…I’m not ready for any of this…I’ve only _just_ gotten used to the idea that I’m like, worthy of Lestallum…” Prompto sighs. “But Crownsguard?! Royalty? All of you have been prepared for this your whole life, Noct…I’m honored, I’m flattered, all of it…I’m even _willing_ , but…” he takes a deep breath, his eye lids flickering from physical excitement, Noctis watching them flutter.

“What if I’m not good enough?” Prompto finishes, Noctis shifting closer toward his best friend in an attempt to quash his fears. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to make myself into something I’m proud of…I was so inadequate and unliked for so long, and now, here I am, an adult, and I can barely trust myself with my own life, let alone the life of my future king…”

“You think I’d just invite any old loser to be in my Crownsguard?!” Noctis scoffs quietly, pulling Prompto closer against him before his mind can scold his body’s actions. “I’m placing myself in _your_ hands for a reason, Prom, and you’re _more_ than good enough for me…”

“Yeah, but…Gladio comes from a line of Glaives and Guards…and Ignis can fix the whole world with his eyes closed…” Prompto whispers, shifting ever closer to the prince, Noctis running a soft hand along Prompto’s ribcage over his shirt. “What can I do?”

“Keep me sane…?” Noctis starts matter-of-factly, neither of them caring as the lamps around the room turn off; the papers had been stashed away, forgotten on the bedside table. “You know, the way you have been this whole time...you’ve shown me so much, about myself, Insomnia, about _life_ …”

“Which is like, hard to believe, ‘cause you’d think a prince would be able to go wherever he wants…”

“And now you definitely know he can’t --- I have to be careful what I do, what I say, where I go. I can’t study, or move away, but I _can_ forget about all that when I’m with you, Prom…”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah…” Noctis confused as to how it is not more glaringly obvious to his best friend just how important he is to him. “It’s _kinda why_ it’d suck major ass if you left,”

“Well, I can’t go if I’m being drafted into the Crownsguard, can I?” Prompto whispers up at Noctis, who leans over him, hoping desperately that the prince decrees it, makes it law, commands and declares, usurping Prompto’s future the way the prince’s own has been stolen from him. “I can’t disobey the king…” Prompto exhales, Noctis shaking his head as the two stare at one another.

“I’m not king yet, Prom…”

Noctis’ hands rest on Prompto’s hips, curling underneath his shirt to stroke the bare skin.

“Yeah, I-I know…” he swallows, the sound of the blankets rustling when Noctis lies closer against him only emphasizing the act.

“Your speech today was really somethin’, Noct…” Prompto whispers, placing his hands on Noctis’ cheeks and pulling his face down gently, for Noctis’ own lips are already millimeters away from Prompto’s, and they hold their breath as they kiss, long and soft and uninterrupted, the two of them lying stationary next to one another and refusing to pull apart. Prompto refuses to open his eyes as Noctis slowly breaks away, for he does not want to have to face his friend’s assured look of confusion, their spell broken. But Noctis, who still lies on Prompto’s side, closes his own as he places his hand on Prompto’s cheek, the other still on his hip, leaning himself down to slowly meet Prompto’s lips again, placing only slightly more pressure against them as the blonde shudders, their lips smacking quietly as they readjust them every few seconds.

If this did not show Prompto that he meant every word, from the day in the café in March, to tonight, before dozens of people, he could not possibly think of any argument more persusasive. He pulls away from him after at least two minutes, both of them opening their eyes to look at one another. _“He must be pretty convinced,”_ Noctis’ thought surges through his head, as Prompto sits up to pull Noctis back down, a command he happily obliges. He is not entirely sure how he finds himself on top of the blonde. Their arms are wrapped around each other, their lips catching in the other’s teeth, savoring their awkward, undeniable kisses. Their bodies are warm and breathless as they pull apart yet again, after a handful of wordless confessions.

He is not sure who stops first, merely that their kisses stay slow and deep, as if Noctis fears that pressing against his friend any harder or any faster will undo it all. He forces his mind to be completely blank as he breaks away from Prompto for the final time, the blonde having been caressed to sleep. Noctis cracks his back, sighing heavily as he gathers the sheets from around their feet, covering both their flushed and still clothed bodies. He places one last quick kiss on Prompto’s lips before closing his eyes, relishing his first successful negotiation as king in waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Prompto's hard work was for nothing, I think Noctis has him convinced despite both of them knowin damn better. Hmm, I wonder if Ardyn is gonna come outta left field next chapter and totally shatter what little bit of a break the two of them have managed to catch.
> 
> So this was how I envisioned them kissing from the very beginning. Would you say it's better than the other way, for those of you who read the unedited version of chapter 16? Most of this story was unplanned, but the entire last section of this chapter was like, the one scene I had in mind for the whole story. This story was initially gonna be a oneshot fic asking "How did Prompto end up joining Noctis' Crownsguard?". Oops. 
> 
> As I wrote it out I was like, "hmmm...what about the moments leading up to this convo?" and now we're all here.
> 
> PS, hit me up on steam or tumblr some time. Idk if this site does pms, but if it does, message me and I'll give you my deets.


	18. Practice Makes Perfect

“Okay, seriously…some of your outfits, Noct…” Prompto sneers, pulling out a black mariachi jacket adorned with sequined Cactuars on the lapels, the back with a giant sequined Moogle. He places it upon the perfectly waxed, brand new hardwood floor, pulling out a matching set of black pants with red ribbons along the length of the leg and a matching sombrero. “When the actual fuck are you planning on wearing this?!” he laughs hysterically, holding up the jacket toward Noctis, who hangs up clothes from his own pile in his walk in closet.

“Uh, where would I _not_ wear it?!” Noctis snaps back playfully, his ears going red at the jest. Prompto merely settles for silent, raised eyebrows in response, delicately placing the clothing next to the crate. “I’ll uh, wait to see what your hanger situation is looking like before we slam those onto one…”

“You sayin’ my Chocobo Moogle Festival outfit isn’t worth the closet space?” Noctis pops his head out from behind the wall, Prompto hoisting a folded stack of jeans into his hands and placing them neatly into Noctis’ new cherry oak dresser. Prompto found the apartment to be just as exquisite as the exclusive outside implied. It is spacious, its surfaces entirely new. The hardwood floors extend throughout the entire apartment. A decent-sized kitchen lies immediately to the right of the entrance, three marbled counter tops and an island leaving plenty of prep room for cooking. The new, stainless steel oven is scratch free and eerily reflective (he assumes the apartment is haunted, thinking he barely catches the glimpse of a ghost whenever it reflects either himself or the other three men).

On the left side, directly across from the kitchen, a modest living room sprawls symmetrically outward, the entire wall made of three wide, glass windows, covered by thick, yet slightly sheer curtains. A thirty inch flatscreen sits upon a black, unscuffed, brand new coffee table. A fuzzy, dark purple rug separates the table from the firm, dark brown leather couch. The bathroom is sleek and tiled, sterile and clean, though without the heated floors and luxury tub. It is nice, certainly nicer than Prompto’s home, or that of the dorm that awaits him in Lestallum, he remembers with a guilty lurch.

The prince’s bedroom consists of a simple, king-sized bed, the covers and sheets black. The walls are a navy blue, and only a grey lamp, a dark red bedside table that matches the dresser, and black curtains actually serve as décor for the time being. The fourth wall mimics that of the living room, consisting of three wide, floor to ceiling windows, covered by the same curtains. The space is perfectly clean (presently speaking), the smell of wood and varnish giving Prompto a slight headache; they had been assisting Noctis with his move in for nearly the entire morning and early afternoon.

The whole apartment is kept cool through the crisp central air that rises through the metal grates in the floor, the ventilation system soundless save for the occasional click of it kicking on. Prompto can easily see himself living here --- especially together with Noctis. The prince himself had not complained once --- he seems rather enthusiastic about the entire space, _his_ space. His good mood had set the tone of the task, washing away his irritation at the early hour at which Ignis had woken them up (thankfully the two had shifted in their sleep, leaving Noctis’ staff completely unsuspecting toward their maudlin engagement the night before). Though the apartment is definitely worthy of the luxurious distinction it bears, no one would be so foolish to deny it is an active downgrade from the Citadel.

The four men had been so busy, slaves to constant motion. The topic of either the Crownsguard or their lengthy make our session pointedly undiscussed and ignored in favor of the manual labor that leaves their lungs short of breath and their muscles strained and weak. Gladio grunts as he brings in another heavy coffee table through the front door, assisted by Ignis, who simultaneously christens Noctis’ kitchen with the light salads and potato soup he prepares for lunch.

“Noct, get in here and get your swords in their display case!” Gladio instructs, Noctis giving Prompto a slight, playful push on the way out. The two share a soft laugh before Noctis complies, the blonde surveying the bedroom by his lonesome.

“That could be my half of the closet…” he fantasizes, chewing on his bottom lip. “And the last drawer could be mine, too…”

The whole entire wall behind the headboard of the bed is blank, the wall Noctis assured Prompto would stay blank for his own photography to display. The left wall of the living room had been reserved for him, too. The bathroom was big enough for two people to use in the mornings, and while the couch would prove somewhat snug, the bed in Noctis’ room definitely left enough space for them both to find their daily comfort…

Prompto groans as he courts the potential house share, his heart and mind no less torn nor no more made up than they were when Noctis had suggested the idea of Crownsguard to him the night before. They’d certainly _discussed_ the possibility, albeit the details of which were spared in favor of more intimate methods of communication. Yet Prompto had agreed to nothing, nor had Ignis or Regis or Cor offered their own blessings; the choice was up to Noctis, but the ultimate decision lay in the discretional hands of the three wiser, less rash men.

Lestallum still awaited him, and while Prompto maintains one foot planted firmly in the dusty earth of Lestallum, his other suddenly embeds itself in the heart of the Prince of Insomnia. The metaphorical distance between the two threaten to tear Prompto in half, for they could not exist concurrently. Prompto had agreed to spend the first night with Noctis in his new apartment despite it all ( _“Alright, Prompto, but you’re going to need to say your goodbye at some point so that we can get you prepared for your own move!”_ his mother warned), the official house warming party to take place the Sunday after.

“How am I even supposed to say anything about the Crownsguard?” Prompto mumbles, growing slightly irritated that Noctis leaves him somewhat in the dark with something so important, where so little time for conspicuousness exists. “Is there a fucking _help desk_ you call for this sorta thing? Do I talk to The Six? The King? The old kings?” Prompto buries his face in his hands, drained and stressed; he stops himself from laughing at his own melodrama as he catches a glimpse of the mariachi outfit on the floor.

“Soup’s up, you hungry, Prom?” Noctis’ soft voice calls from the door way, Prompto looking up from the floor quickly to see his friend leans against the door frame, his legs crossed at the ankles.

“Dude, I’m starving…” Prompto mouths, exhaling a shaky breath, his mind, body, and spirit fatigued.

“I’ve got the table set…I’m even using the plates your mom gave me for graduation,” Noctis smiles, Prompto nodding, though his smile falters quickly, much to Noctis’ concern.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, standing up straight and swaying over to the blonde slowly.

_'No, I’m not okay!'_

“I’m just not feelin’ good…” Prompto mumbles, the haphazard clashing of multiple situations causing his stomach to hurt.

“Take a nap, Prom, no one’ll take it the wrong way…” Noctis suggests, guiding his friend to sit down on the edge of the bed, Noctis joining him sympathetically. “What’s up?”

 _“What isn’t?!”_ Prompto mentally sneers, growing mildly irritated that yet _another_ Friday of kissing goes unaddressed between them. He sees that the topic elbows itself further and further into the forefront of their consciousness, for Noctis stares at his blanket, shifting awkwardly every few seconds.

“When are you plannin’ on bringing up the Crownsguard thing?” Prompto nearly accuses, Noctis shrugging before standing up. “I mean, I dunno, I guess I’ll bring it up sometime next week…”

“No, because I leave for Lestallum _sometime next week_!” Propmto snaps, Noctis curling his lips and creasing his brow in slight offense.

“The hell is your problem?!”

“You can’t just give me hope like that and then leave me on the back burner to overcook, dude,” Prompto bluntly explains, nearly cutting the prince off. “I know we’ve been busy today, but don’t let it slip your mind too much…”

“Okay, okay, I know…” Noctis concedes, slowly rising from the bed, upon which Prompto still sits. “I was just, you know, kinda hoping my first night in this place could be chill, with you…”

“I’ll chill out if I know where the hell I’m gonna be in a week…” Prompto eases up, laughing slightly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know how important the Crownsguard is, not even for just you, but for me, too…it’s a big deal, and I’ll definitely tell Iggy and Gladio what’s up tonight, before they leave, but…”

“But what?” Prompto asks, Noctis folding his arms somewhat defensively.

“I dunno…” Noctis finishes dully, but as Prompto opens his mouth to address that he in fact knows quite well what it is they both _know_ , Gladio sticks his head through the door, causing Noctis to jump from nerves, the moody prince sulking slightly in his vulnerability.

“I’m hungry as hell and I’m eating all of your bowls if you don’t get your asses to the table,” he warns, Prompto and Noctis sharing a look that means to convey to the other that their conversation would resume after the daunting task of getting everything moved in.

Noctis’ brooding silence does not change once they enter the living-dining room combination. Gladio sits at the small, rectangular table already, rubbing his hands expectantly at the generous yet reasonably portioned bowl of soup before him. Prompto’s mother had bought Noctis a charming, light yellow dishware set the prince already cherished, Prompto blushing slightly as he sees the dishes set the table top ( _“I swear my gift to you is almost finished, Noct, just gimmie a couple more days!”_ Prompto hastily pleaded yesterday).

“Go on in, help yourselves,” Ignis instructs from the island, placing heaps of lettuce upon a salad plate. The warmth and nourishment instantly rejouvenates Prompto, who nearly burns his tongue, he consumes the soup so quickly.

“Better get your meal in now, we won’t be stickin’ around for dinner tonight, and Gods help you if Noct is mannin’ the stove tonight,” Gladio warns Prompto, who burps up a little bit of soup in his laughter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Noctis snaps, broadly chewing a single piece of lettuce heavily drenched in bleu cheese dressing, trying not to let the texture rest against his palette.

“Stop being so _dramatic_ , lettuce tastes of nothing as is!” Ignis snaps, slamming more salad onto the young man’s plate.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never had Noct’s cooking before…” Prompto stares at the plate, dipping a saltine into the potato soup generously.

“I do find that quite interesting, I suppose that’s why Noctis has been in the kitchen with me lately --- _agh_!” Noctis elbows Ignis sharply, teeth clenched in irritation. “Forget I said anything…” Ignis mumbles darkly in response.

“Well, the last time I had any of Noct’s cookin’ I couldn’t shit for a week!” Gladio barks, placing his already empty bowl onto the table, Ignis serving him seconds.

“’Tis only a joke, Your Highness…” Ignis rolls his eyes, for Noctis slouches moodily in his chair.

“Yeah, and can you guys not make me look like an idiot in front of Prompto?” Noctis snaps only just loud enough for Ignis to hear. He’d found it rather suspect to see the moody prince lingering so frequently in the kitchens, asking about techniques, or flame levels, or seasoning combinations. Where he assumed it to be a sprout of growth and maturity, wanting to learn how to cook for oneself, he looks between Prompto and Noctis, who no longer wishes to maintain an attitude where it prevents him eating.

“What are your plans for dinner then?” Gladio asks curiously.

“Oh my God, I’ll tell you later…” Noctis hisses, eyeing them both darkly as he tips the edge of his bowl against his lips to finish the rest of the meal.

“Message received, Your Royal Snottiness,” Gladio dishes back, collecting their plates and washing them in the unscuffed sink.

“Hoo boy…” Prompto sighs.

“Have you got something on your mind, Noct?” Ignis questions over his cup of water, Prompto turning his head to Gladio as he shifts in the wooden chair slightly too small for him.

“You do seem a little preoccupied, out with it!”

“Idlikepromtjnmycrngrd…” Noctis mumbles into his chest, Ignis leaning in closer.

“One more time?” he sarcastically requests.

“I’d--- _I’d like Prompto to join my Crownsguard_ ,”

He looks at no one when he admits his request formally, Prompto mirroring his friend as his gaze stays rooted onto the trendy, black and dark brown table. The statement brings a minute long round of silence about the table.

“…We’d love to have you aboard, Prompto,” Gladio ensures him, albeit awkwardly, but Ignis’s expression is stony and unamused.

“I hope you take zero offense to this, Prompto,” Ignis starts firmly, his eyes lingering on the blonde momentarily before they dart back onto Noctis, whom he reprimands with his expression alone. “But before I could even _entertain_ the nomination, I must question if Noct understands how _entirely_ selfish it is of him to bestow such a burden upon a civilian with such a promising future?”

“How the hell is it selfish?!” Noctis argues, looking up from the table aggravatedly, mouth slightly agape.

“Joining the ranks of Lucis isn’t a light decision,” Gladio supports Ignis, the only one of the three other men to acknowledge Prompto in his own silent hesitation. “While the offer and the title is an honor, it is a life long commitment that will forever bind you to the Crown,” Gladio explains, looking Prompto kindly, but gravely in the eyes.

“It is not just some summer internship that you can abandon or write off your resume when you grow sick or tired of it,” Ignis adds, incurring Noctis’ criticism.

“You don’t have to talk to him like he’s a fucking idiot!” the prince barks in accusatory disgust, rising slightly from his chair.

“No one is doing that, Noctis,” Gladio holds out a hand to settle the crescendo in Noctis’ body language. “We just want to make sure you understand what it is you’re saying,”

“And it figures that everyone just assumes stupid Noctis has no idea what the hell is going on!” he rolls his eyes, deliberately ignoring Prompto. “Turns out if you bitch at me enough, I’ll read the fine damn print! I know what’s going on, and I know what it is I’m suggesting!”

“But does _Prompto_?” Ignis questions desperately, playing advocate for the blonde who seems to have lost his voice. “How is Prompto supposed to hone his skills as a photographer when every bit of him is instead dedicated to keeping Lucis and its royal family safe?”

“You mean he won’t have ten minutes to him-fucking-self as a Crownsguard to take _pictures_?!” Noctis roars, now completely risen from his chair, glaring down at Ignis, who still remains seated. Gladio warns him with a “Hey, settle down, now…”, Prompto shuddering at just how imposing the Prince’s Shield could be with a mere lidding of his eyes and a tensing of his broad shoulders.

“It is no different than caging in a canary and telling him life is no different because he has a branch to perch upon in his captivity!” Ignis poetically shouts, slamming his fist against the table.

“Iggy just wants you to take a moment to consider your best friend and his perspective; admittance to the Lestallum School of Art and Degisn is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Gladio adds, eyeing the silent Prompto. The blonde is surprised to see it is Gladio who keeps an even temper, and that it is Ignis who grows hot at his Prince’s presumptuous air.

“Okay, but how does being the personal photographer of the _King of Lucis_ not carry any more weight than some art school?!”

“No one is denying the utmost honor, Noct, but have you not stopped to realise that Prompto has made it very clear that Lestallum is his dream?”

“Of course I have!” Noctis huffs, turning to look at Prompto. “Like dude, I’m so _sick_ of you always undermining me! You complain I’m not taking enough responsibility, and when I do, I’m not doing it right! Then you fucking complain I’m not doing anything, maybe it’s because it’s never good enough!”

“Nothing you’re doing is wrong, Noctis. We’re just concerned that you’re nominating Prompto for the right reasons, and not for the wrong ones,” Gladio reiterates, Noctis taking a deep breath, exhaling and closing his eyes as Ignis starts again.

“This is not just some day job where the two of you pass notes and snicker behind the backs of dignitaries then come home and scratch your unwashed balls while eating take out every night. This is serious, this is tradition. There is a training regiment, a code to uphold, a fealty to be sworn to you and the people of Lucis,” Gladio too lectures.

“So you’re saying Prompto can’t do it?!” Noctis hisses, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothin’ against Prompto, he’s proven his chops with our self-defense classes, but there’s no denying he’s a shrimpy thing who just graduated high school twenty four hours ago. It’s gonna take a lot of work to make him worthy of the name, if he wishes to join,”

“This isn’t a question of Prompto’s ability…this is a question of his desire…” Prompto feels Ignis’ auburn eyes rest upon him expectantly; his time had come to acknowledge the conversation before him, to turn down Lestallum, to, by the sound of their dire warnings, commit himself to Noctis’ ascenscion where for months he had seen himself as having no such place. All eyes are on him; Prompto the Glaive, the Guard, the Knight, the Worthy --- his official title in history would have yet to be determined --- must don the Royals with an answer.

 “I’d love to join…if you’d have me…” Prompto never felt more inadequate in his life, like a child begging permission to play with older children.

“Are you _sure_?” Gladio coaxes concernedly, placing a caring hand on Prompto’s thigh. The brunette sees the blonde shakes, riddled with nerves. Ignis glares at Noctis sternly as he rises from his chair, who shoots Ignis an equally insubordinate look back.

“I’d like talk to Prompto in the hallway alone, if I may…”

“Sure, Ig…” Prompto meekly winces, careful to avoid eye contact with Noctis as he rises, the sound of their chairs against the linoleum floor dampening the sound of their exit into the hallway.

“I get the feeling you don’t want me…” Prompto accuses almost instantly following the close of the apartment door, folding his arms, albeit defensively as opposed to aggressively.

“Prompto I must again reiterate that the concern Gladio and I are showing only partially stems from Noctis’ nomination of you specifically,” Ignis explains quickly, pushing his glasses further up against the bridge of his nose. “While I have no doubt that you can rise to the occasion, it would be foolish to deny that your civilian lifestyle simply has not prepared you for the level of discipline and skill such a title requires. Such coaching would require months, even _years_ ,”

Prompto grows lightheaded at the thought, growing suddenly shameful of the euphoria the last twenty four hours had filled him with; it was only natural that such an obligation would be as involved as Gladio and Ignis solemnly explained. Both his own and Noctis’ negligence in acknowledging such a reality only highlights the need for Ignis’ lecture, his concern and gate keeping. He inwardly curses Noctis and his ability to turn Prompto into such a dreamy idiot.

“This is a warning from a place of concern of your will and desires, not of your abilities,” Ignis adds.

“I know, and like…none of this…none of this was on my mind until Noctis suggested it! I mean, my parents still think I’m leaving for Lestallum in five days!”

“Precisely why I must be so harsh and so forward; a whole entire season’s worth of applicants for the Kingsglaive await Noctis’ personal attention; candidates train and prepare their whole lives for even the chance to serve the Caelum family; hence why I must express my concerns at exactly what you just admitted, that it hadn’t even crossed your mind! And I can only imagine that Noctis hand waved away the finer details of the job when pitching it to you last night,”

Prompto nods gingerly from embarrassment, chewing on his bottom lip. He leans against the wall with his back, arms still folded.

“Noctis is a petulant child. I do not know what it will take to make him rise up and be the mature leader he needs to be,” Ignis groans, placing his hand on his forehead and pacing slightly.

“He just graduated, Iggy…give him time…I have all the faith in him in the world…” Prompto defends the prince gently, both out of a love for him he cannot curtail, as well as a genuine belief the young man’s potential.

“I should hope so, considering you are talking about making the eternal commitment to lay your life for him and his duties,” Ignis chides the blonde sarcastically, blinking softly. “But what of you, Prompto? You know the level of prestige that awaits you in Lestallum, and a young man of your budding talent deserves nothing but the best. Not to mention up until lunch, you were talking about running as far away from him as you could so that you could not enable his behavior,”

“I ---“ Prompto chokes, Ignis’ eyebrows raising ever higher the longer the blonde maintains his nervous silence. “Don’t kill me Iggy, but…” Prompto groans, swaying side to side, staring upward at the ceiling.

“I didn’t wanna enable it as just his bum friend from high school, you know? But if I can be by his side, as his friend and his guard, I feel like --- okay, look, this is gonna sound really dumb, dude, and like, no offense, Iggy, ‘cause you kick _so_ much ass!” Prompto prefaces his confession nervously, hissing and swaying once more before answering. Ignis cannot help but smile at the blonde, awaiting his allegedly offensive statement.

“I get Noct to listen to me,” Prompto splutters, Ignis not certain how he is able to find any understanding from such a general statement. “Like, I told him to drink more water, he does it. I got him to study, help me with the festival, actually like, adhere to his training schedule…”

“Don’t worry, I understand that some directions he seems to adhere to much more easily when coming from you,” Ignis agrees.

“So…if I stand by his side as Prompto his best friend, the Crownsguard, and not Prompto, his best friend, the bum, I really can help guide him, where before I was afraid I would just enable him---“

“But enough about him for a minute, what about _you_?! Are you happy with such a fate?” Ignis asks sympathetically.

“Well, I mean…” Prompto sighs, dropping his shoulders in resignation. “…don’t forget, he’s always inspired me to be the better _me_ , too…I lost all that weight for him years ago just so he’d talk to me, and…”

 “This is _your_ decision, Prompto. And I do not want to see you give up your dreams and livelihood for him. No matter how Noctis likes to fancy himself, he cannot and will not be allowed to make or force you to choose something you do not want. You know what it is best for you both, and while I would love to have you join our ranks, I need you to understand the decision you are making; it is a strenuous, life long commitment, and I fear it is one that will eat away at you should your love for the prince not cease,”

“I --- I _do_ still love him Iggy…” Prompto admits quietly, growing hot as memories of Noctis on top of him the night before flash before his mind’s eye.

“And your commitment to him as Crownsguard means having to be his rock, even when you must watch him marry and have children,” Ignis spares no reality, somewhat guilty as the wave of hurtful realization manifests upon the blonde’s strained face.

“There is no such place before the Crystal in which it will condone the union of a King and his Knight,”

“I…”

“I understand you two are desperate to find a way to maintain your friendship, but for Noctis, I must warn him that his duty comes first and said duty will be much less patient with how much he likes to sleep in than I. For you, I must warn you that he can never, ever love you the way you do him…”

“Yup…” Prompto concedes tiredly.

“If you must still work through your feelings ---“

Prompto wants nothing more than to shush the advisor mid lecture by telling him how good of a kisser his prince was, but realizes quickly that such a sassy comeback does not render said lecture incorrect. But, if things were to be believed (and Ignis had a stellar track record, free from even the whitest of lies), they would have _years_ to work through their feelings ( _“Making out with Noctis in his bed is a bad fuckin’ start to a lifetime of getting over him…”_ Prompto’s conscience scolds him).

“I accept it…” Prompto interrupts, not even sure if he does, if he means to, merely knowing that accepting meant accepting more time in Insomnia, in his friend’s apartment as his roommate, in his bed as his…

“Right…I suppose we shall have to have the talk with your parents in a few days’ time. You do know that you are not a member of the Crownsguard until you are initiated through an official ceremony. What does that mean of your Lestallum application?” Ignis cuts off his thoughts, clearly resigned.

“I have until June 3rd to accept, and I was planning to leave June 5th…”

“And there is no requesting admission once the offer has been rescinded, is this correct?”

Prompto nods.

“The ceremony shan’t take place until this August, thus, should you have a change of heart sometime this week, the crossroads still lie before your feet,”

“I wanna do it, Iggy…”

“You are both so incredibly foolish,” Ignis snaps, though the warm, gentle hand on his shoulder from Ignis brings a smile to Prompto’s freckled cheeks and weary eyes.

* * *

 

“What did he say out there to you, in the hallway?” Noctis asks, lying against the top of his bed, his hair still damp from the shower he had taken twenty minutes ago. He stares up at the ceiling, one so much lower than that of his bedroom in the Citadel.

Gladio and Ignis had left late afternoon, both congratulatory and stressed at Prompto’s decision to join the Crownsguard. The two of them were summoned rather abruptly by Regis ( _“Ardyn has returned. I do not want to drag Noctis into this matter, for much of this negotiation involves my son, until they are concluded. I feel I must consult the two of you immediately, however. News of this matter shall wait until tomorrow before reaching Noctis, until more details are available”_ ), thus leaving Noctis and Prompto alone in the apartment for the first time since helping the prince move in.

They’d settled for watching trash Lucian talk shows ( _“I know he’s doin’ more than goin’ on business trips on the other side of the wall because he had Starscourge on his dick!”_ ) before attempting to make dinner, which ended anti-climatically in the form of Cup Noodles (scalded pots clutter the once pristine sink in resignation, awaiting Ignis’ elbow grease). The fatigue of the day had kept their actions and conversations light hearted, though both men now feel refreshed after a late evening shower.

“Where do I even start, dude?” Prompto groans, tracking drops of water in his wake and leaving his towel next to Noctis’ on the floor. “Just more of the same, really…” he fibs, joining his friend as he lies flat against the bed on top of the covers, staring up at the ceiling.

“I mean, I don’t blame him, becoming a member of your Crownsguard is really serious…”

“Yeah, but it really pissed me off how he made it seem like you’re just some dumbass who doesn’t know any better,” Noctis grumbles, swiping idly on his phone.

“Yeah, but, he’s just doin’ his job, you know? I appreciate him looking out for us,” Prompto defends, Noctis shrugging and going back to his phone.

“I know, it doesn’t make him less irritating, though…Plus like, he’s acting like I’m sayin’ we’re gonna put kick me signs on the Kingsglaive or something. I get that we need to grow up or whatever, Prom, but we can do that and still be who we are, you know? It’s like he’s mad that I can’t just _shut_ myself down and become this blank slate that doesn’t do or feel anything that isn’t related to the Crown…and it’s like I said yesterday, I need you so I don’t lose a sense of who I am…I don’t wanna forget how you make me feel, Prom…”

“What do you mean?” Prompto asks quietly, far from resisting as the two of them roll over to face one another.

“Well, wait, lemmie back up a sec,” Noctis clears his throat. “Don’t listen to Iggy, I --- I know that you’d be giving up and sacrificing a lot to stay by my side, and that Lestallum is just the _tip_ of that iceberg…”

“Noct…”

“I mean it, I want you to photograph and document every little thing about my reign!” he grins, nodding with excitement. “I don’t care what Iggy or Gladio say, I’ll rewrite the whole doctrine if it means you can catch a damn break, alright? And I’ll still do what I can to make sure you get private lessons with the kingdom’s best!”

“Deal,” Prompto nods, the two of them fist bumping and making raucous explosion noises. Their brief lapse in silliness rubber bands them back into their serious discussion.

“Like, he made it sound like this is all just about me, and…” Noctis trails off, for there was no amount of appreciation or gratitude he could show the blonde that undoes the fact that it was an ultimate sense of selfishness that desperately wants the blonde by his side as his Crownsguard.

“Are you sure, Prom?”

“You guys asking me this every twenty seconds isn’t gonna make me change my mind…” Prompto chuckles quietly, snuggling against his best friend’s chest. “But what did you mean, about like…how I make you feel?” he whispers, Noctis turning bright red and sitting up suddenly.

“You’re just a really incredible friend, and like, even that day, in the snow, you still gave me that chance, and…I need you to be by my side my whole life, ‘cause it’s gonna take a whole lifetime to pay you back, dude,” Noctis grins, Prompto smiling himself.

“I don’t think that’s what you mean…” he shakes his head, sitting up too, pushing Ignis’ earlier warnings out of his head as he leans in to kiss the prince, who is grateful that his friend is intelligent enough to derive the deeper meaning from his words where he lacks his own to express them. Noctis brings his calloused hands to Prompto’s waist, the two spending a handful of blissful minutes breaking apart only due to their need for air, their kisses still long, deep, and slow.

“…What’s so funny?” Noctis furrows his brow just slightly as Prompto snorts into a light chuckle as they break apart again.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before, have you?” Prompto can’t stop himself, laughing harder as Noctis’ look of complete and utter horror illuminates his features in shock.

“Uh, yeah?!” he shrieks, his lie so terrible Prompto clutches his stomach, Noctis folding his arms and waiting for his cruel friend to stop gloating at his inexperience.

“Iggy is a fierce cock blocker, okay?!” Noctis admits, slamming his still laughing friend with a pillow, his face, neck and ears bright red.

“Tell me about it…” Prompto sighs, and although either of them still have yet to utter even as much of an “I have a crush on you,” the mutual disappointment they share leaves Noctis certain they both wrestle with the same tongue twister of emotions, even where Prompto either refuses to admit or see it --- he cannot yet tell which.

“I was always shielded from _my_ fanclubs, that’s the difference between having a bodyguard and not having one…” he groans, trying to keep the conversation light.

“All those hot ass chicks and Iggy’s always there to make sure it stays in the pants!” Prompto mourns with his friend, Noctis rolling his eyes. “You know it…”

“Y-you’re not _bad_ or anything, I can just tell you’re new at this --- it’s kinda cute! Like, apparently I show you espresso and how to make out, you’re just a really _strange_ guy, Noct! But like, when you kiss, don’t try to rush it, just take your time, don’t let your…” Prompto whispers once his laughter slows down. Noctis tries his best to take his friend’s jestful observation in stride, but an almost carnal, primal desire to explore Prompto in every way wells within him, so that he may learn what unravels his best friend’s playful teasing, so that he may snatch his smile away and have him clutching passionately to his body, moaning his name from breathless, dark desire, his freckled cheeks flushed and his mouth parted, his head thrown back as he cannot contain himself under the body of his skilled prince ---

“Hello? Are you listening?!” Prompto waves, Noctis not even noticing he drools somewhat.

“Speaking from experience?” Noctis sneers, Prompto flushing slightly from an inexplicable sheepishness. “Kinda…”

Noctis tenses from jealousy at the answer, thus Prompto chooses to remind Noctis in an underhanded way that he would have years to make Prompto jealous.

“You can’t kiss your future _queen_ like this, Noct, not if you want heirs…” Prompto _tries_ to behave, to be the better influence he and Ignis both know he needs to be. Yet he cares little for the future of Lucis as Noctis, even in all of his awkward inexperience, leans over top of him licentiously. He can feel Noctis tense up as he leans down to kiss him again, his hands accidentally catching his friend’s undershirt and exposing his toned stomach. The act strips the smile off Prompto’s face, who instead looks up at Noctis with a dazed and puzzled look on his face, the prince certain the blonde tries his best to move past a mental block to allow their moment to continue.

“Well, as my highly seasonsed Crownsguard, so piously dedicated to the King and the Realm of Lucis, you better help me practice so I can get some heirs…” Noctis growls in an attempt to justify their quickly escalating, forbidden, and even unaddressed actions with a surprise smoothness that causes Prompto to think longingly back to the article in the Galahd Gazette, laughing internally at how many papers they could sell if there were a hidden camera installed in the Prince’s new bedroom.

“Yeah, I guess I should help you practice, huh?” Prompto rationalizes breathlessly, shuddering as their lips meet again, Noctis’ rough, training-calloused hands sliding up and down his hips slowly. “For Lucis…” he nods, eyes closed, in between their kisses. He was doing his duty, a necessary one, for the King and his country; there was no way Ignis could argue against their logic, and there was no way Ignis could know about it.

“Yeah…For Lucis…” Noctis agrees, a heat in his abdomen successfully celebrating negotiation number two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY just letting you know, those boys did not do the do or the nasty or anything. They are keeping it strictly above the belt. At least for now. Practice actually doesn't make perfect. Practice makes permanent. And their "practice" is gonna be a habit they're gonna need to kick before it does become permanent. Rather than talk it out, they'd rather do all kinds of mental gymnastics to explain and justify their actions and feelings. The arrangement they have can't last very long, whether because it falls apart under their ridiculousness, or because OUTSIDE SOURCES (Niflheim cough) snap Prompto back to reality (up, there goes gravity) and he gets on that damn train to Lestallum.
> 
> Also I feel like Noctis would be an incredibly lazy lover. Not a bad one, and not even a not affectionate one. I see him as the type to finish (Whether it be a steamy make out or something else) and roll over and do something stupid like say "let's watch the Big Lebowski", or fall asleep, or start talking about politics or something without even missing a beat.
> 
> I dunno.


	19. The Breaking of the Fellowship

If Noctis’ distinct ignoration of the high pitched, rhythmic chirping that emanates from his cell phone is a regular habit, it is one that Prompto could easily consider a deal breaker. The phone vibrates against the firm mattress, causing the hair on their cool, moist bodies to tremble. The flashlight flickers in three rapid chirps of light every three or four seconds; Prompto can sense the change of the light, even with his eyes closed. His entire body lies face down and flat against the bed, and he extends his entire, muscular arm to latch onto the phone like the sticky tongue of a frog upon a fly, mushing it bluntly against Noctis’ back.

The prince utters a passionate groan from his sleep-clogged throat, lying stiffly on his side, facing the window. Prompto does not take Noctis’ own violently waving arm for an answer. He smacks it against Noctis’ clammy shoulder blade instead, the phone’s sweaty surface peeling slowly off his flesh before hitting the bed once more.

“Stooooooooooooooooooop…….” Noctis moans, rolling over onto his back and putting his pillow over his eyes, teeth clenched.

“Iggy’s been callin’ for like, fifteen minutes, dude…” Prompto grumbles, muffled by the mattress, drool seeping from his mouth and onto the sheet, leaving behind dark grey pools as evidence of his not yet awoken motor skills. “Why didn’t you just _answer_?!” the prince whines again, and Prompto props his upper body up, his entire frame a slope as he casts a narrowed, sleep-crusted glare toward the body of the prince, who defiantly tries to catch more sleep despite the highly active alert on his phone.

“Because I’m not your secretary or your messenger boy,” Prompto snaps.

Noctis nearly falls out of the bed as he violently scrambles awake, for Prompto hurls his buzzing cellphone, hitting him square in the gut like a cannon ball.

“Answer your fucking _phone_ , Noct, it’s probably important…” Prompto lectures, too irritated to care that Noctis takes offense to the blonde’s transformation of his phone into a ballistic weapon. The prince snatches it up, casting Prompto’s messy, sleep-tossed hair a very dirty look.

“What…” Noctis snaps in a gravelly, groggy voice. He sits up, his head angled toward his lap, the palm of his hand fanned out as he wearily supports it.

_“Good morning, Your Highness…I suspect Prompto finally had enough of your negligence and convinced you to answer?”_

“Ugghhh duuuuudeee….” Noctis whines, looking at Prompto’s phone. Pink is still in the rising sky, birds still wish the world a thousand rapid good mornings over top each other with their hasty songs, and condensation still clings to the window; it is barely seven in the morning.

_“Dude indeed. I will be by for you both in forty minutes’ time. Do not bother with breakfast, I have it ready for you both here,”_

“Do I get to know what the hell’s goin’ on?”

_“It’s a lot to explain over lines of easily traced communication; I merely suggest you take Prompto’s and my thousands of consecutive hints and get ready. Tell him I say to dress nicely; you too,”_

“He doesn’t have any nice clothes here, he’s just chilin’ for the weekend,” Noctis grunts, Prompto facing him and rubbing his eyes at the implied mention of his person.

 _“Tell him to wear the clothes with the least wrinkles or condiment stains on them,”_ Ignis amends his statement before hanging up abruptly, Noctis placing his phone down, using his other hand to shake Prompto violently.

“C’mon, Iggy’s comin’…” Noctis groans, swinging his legs to the floor and shuffling towards his bathroom, bumping into the door frame and causing Prompto to laugh a single, barking laugh.

“Did he say what’s up?” Prompto yawns, rubbing a pinched nerve in his lower back and wincing, extending his arms and stretching in the comfort of Noctis’ blankets.

“Does he ever…?” Noctis smirks, closing the bathroom door with a loud yawn of his own, which the walls barely muffle.

The two had gotten a mere six hours of sleep (the best friends required a minimum of ten on weekends), inspired with an energy that lasted well past their bedtime due to the nature of their activities. They had not gone beyond kissing. It was after a particularly intimate, extended kiss, Noctis had merely rolled over before asking _“You up for some King’s Knight?”_ with such an informal innocence, that Prompto could only laugh hysterically at the absurdity before grabbing his phone and trash talking the prince until one in the morning.

While the decisions seemed wise and sound at the time, Prompto knows they both regret them --- the staying up late to play mobile games, at least. It is all a distinct shame, for they had talked briefly the night before about dedicating some early morning time to more _practice_ , as a daily training schedule was sure to produce the best results.

Prompto takes the brief moment he has away from Noctis to prepare his graduation gift for his best friend, making the final touches before wrapping it in a thick, high quality gold and black tissue paper (the colors of the royal family). He looks over his shoulder, turning away quickly and hiding his gift in his camera bag. Noctis emerges quickly from the bathroom, walking into his closet with a towel around his waist.

“Iggy says to dress nicely,” he grunts, hidden behind the wall.

“Nicely?” Prompto repeats, suddenly grateful he showered the night before. Noctis tosses him a dark green button up and a pair of copper brown slacks, the two of them similar enough in build to share one another’s clothing.

“Dunno, whenever I want him to actually talk my ear off, he never does,” Noctis clarifies, coming out in a black shirt and slacks, the buttons upon each a subtle, muted gold. Prompto focuses on the reflection of himself in Noctis’ bathroom mirror, styling his hair professionally, yet fashionably.

“Do my freckles make me look childish? You know, as like a, knight slash politician thing?”

“…No?” Noctis replies in confusion, spraying himself with a canister of tasteful, spicy deodorant. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” he laughs, Prompto shrugging, not finding it nearly as humorous; he meant the question entirely.

“I dunno…” Prompto mumbles, sighing briefly and dreading his reflection in that he suddenly finds his appearance rather childlike and unworthy of the title he seeks to claim. His lips are pink, full, and rosy, as if permanently stained by cherry popsicles. His cheeks are sunburnt in uneven splotches, like a child who ignores his mother’s warnings of sunscreen as he spends all day playing outdoors. His frame, though athletic and attractive, is slender and hardly imposing.

“You’re _way_ overthinking it, don’t let Iggy freak you out, okay?” Noctis drapes an arm around his friend, the two of them staring at each other with a wordless awkwardness, both of them contemplating the idea of kissing the other.

“…You uh…you look great, Prom, really…” Noctis whispers; he could not think of a single other man who had ever stolen his heart so, even in all of the somewhat lanky awkwardness that adorns his best friend under his clothes that are only slightly too long and just barely too big. He smiles, kissing him softly, pulling away and tapping at the time on his phone as Ignis’ arrival text illuminates the screen.

* * *

 Ignis cannot place what it was that seems strange about the way they carry themselves, yet he chooses not to lose more sanity over the two rough works in progress who slide into the back seat of his car. He is surprised to see the young men in nice, ironed button down shirts, Prompto running his fingers nervously through his slightly damp hair.

“Morning!” Ignis nods, looking at them both in the mirror.

“Iggy, do _we_ have to be up this early?!” Prompto instantly whines, buckling his seat belt in a slight tantrum.

“An aspiring member of the Crownsguard, undone already by the first early morning summon to the Citadel by the King?” Ignis feigns a light shock, Prompto’s cheeks reddening as he folds his arms.

 _“Never hurts to ask, you know…”_   he whispers.

“Have you got no objections of your own, Noct?” Ignis brings the car in drive, Prompto closing his eyes and enjoying the air conditioning that blast subtlely through the vents. “I suggest you come out with them, for your father has far less patience or practice with your brooding than I…”

“It’d just be really nice to get filled in on what’s going on,” Noctis suggests with a sarcastic casualness. “And maybe an ETA on how long it’s all gonna take, ‘cause me and Prom were gonna hit the Promenade to get stuff for the apartment…”

“I suggest you cancel your afternoon engagements,” is all Ignis cryptically shares, Noctis and Prompto sharing a worried look with one another.

“Is my dad okay?” Noctis asks with a lot more humility, leaning forward.

“Oh yes, we’re all fine, just that Chancellor Ardyn Izunia chose to arrive unannounced last night, with the Emperor Iedolas and Lady Lunafreya amongst his company,”

 _“WHAT?!”_ Noctis roars, sticking his head in between the seats to glare at the driver. _“WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?! YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN WORRIED ABOUT LUNA!”_

“I was explicitly told to wait until this morning to involve you, Noct, otherwise I would have called you right away…”

“And why would --- why would _dad_ …” Noctis slams back against the seat, his eyes blank as they stay fixed upon his lap. “Why would dad keep me in the dark?”

“He hardly is, considering I was instructed to pick you up at the earliest reasonable hour,” Ignis offers, though Noctis does not seem entirely convinced.

“I don’t fucking get it,” is all his disgust allows him to utter. “You know I’ve been anxious about Luna!”

“Noct, I know _nearly_ as much as yourself in this moment,” Ignis cuts him off impatiently as he makes a particularly sharp turn around a traffic jammed corner. “I do not know why your father is only just now choosing to involve you, merely that his word are my distinct orders, and that his orders have not led the Kingdom of Lucis astray thus far --- such to the point that if he wishes not to consult his son on current events until he wishes to do so according to his time, I assume he has good reason --- as should you,” Ignis shuts down the sulking prince, Prompto quiet and withdrawn as the two men snap at one another, much akin to a highly intrusive, eavesdropping fly on the wall.

“And you ought to watch your mouth --- this is a matter of international diplomacy, and you best channel the more honorable Noct I know exists in there somewhere…”

“A-and with all due re-respect, Iggy…” Prompto bumbles, interjecting his wavering point of view between the coolly fuming men. He grows warm as he offers Noctis a silent hand, which the prince continues to grip. “Why do you need me?”

“Such insecurity is most unbecoming of a soon-to-be member of the Crownsguard; He or She is to carry him or herself with such poise that one would never suspect they are not where they belong…” he scolds, Prompto sinking into his seat, much like Noctis.

“Alright, then…” he whispers too, hiding his face from Noctis as a few tears of shame gather on the surface of his eyes.

“Cut him some slack, he _just_ woke up, he’s _new_ at this!” Noctis growls, everyone in the car lurching forward as they park at the Citadel, both Noctis and Ignis wasting no time in exiting, Prompto exhaling softly, blinking the tears out of his eyes.

He casts a blurry glance over his shoulder through the tinted windows, Ignis attempting to stride sternly into the castle, blocked however by an aggressive Noctis stepping in his way.

“How is anyone supposed to stand on their two feet with you keeping them so low to the ground with the way you constantly put them down?! He’s done literally nothing wrong!”

“And I think you’d find with Niflheim in your Citadel with your father in poor health that now is not the time to hold Prompto’s hand while he finds his stride!”

The conversation is only slight muffled through the glass, but their raised voices, hunched bodies, and flailing arms do much to fill in the gaps. Prompto’s head remains sadly bowed as he stares at the black leather mats on the floor of the backseat, the shadows of the two arguing bodies outside flickering through the tinted windows.

“Prom’s just trying to get a feel for all of this, and all you can do is nag, nag, nag!”

“For the love of The Six, Noctis, now is not the time for uncertainty!” Ignis roars, causing Prompto to jump. “I refuse to enable your delusions, this is no time for civilian fairy tales!”

“And how am I supposed to know what damn time it is if no one is telling me what’s going on?! You’re not even giving him a chance!”

“I cannot take chances when the threat of war clearly looms on your very doorstep, literally!”

“And it doesn’t give you the right to talk to him like you have no goddamn fucking clue who he is!” Noctis commands, his voice even, rough, and dark, though his shoulders shake slightly from compounding fury. Prompto does not attract their attention as he slams the car door, slowly walking to the two arguing men, head aimed at the ground, hands in his pockets.

“I cannot stand here and condone your choice when I see it to be entirely unreasonable!”

“And I don’t need you to condone _shit_ , because it’s _my_ choice, and _my_ decision,” Noctis spits with finality, Ignis standing straight, composed, his face expressionless, though his breathing is labored and heated.

 _“I won’t let anyone hurt him_ ,” Noctis hisses. Gladio, who awaited them at the breakfast table, deciding to search for the party after not having arrived within fifteen minutes, stumbles upon the scene, instantly jogging toward them to grip Noctis by the arm.

“The hell’s goin’ on out here?!” he growls immediately at Prompto, Noctis attempting to wrench free of his bodyguard’s grip, though he only succeeds in bringing a muscular arm to effortlessly follow the entire strength of his body as he attempts to break the clutch on his bicep.

Prompto is both grateful for and resentful of the fact that Gladio always seemed to have an eye for him in moments where the others did not, grateful that even in the silent recession into himself, Gladio was there to pull him above the waves of his introspective prison.

“And what took you guys so long?! Your father was almost panicked that something happened to you guys on the way here, he nearly deployed the _Glaives,_ he nearly accused _the Niffs_ of foul play and caused total war!”

“Forgive me, Gladio; Noctis and I merely got into a bit of a spat,” Ignis sighs, crossing his arms and cocking a leg to the side. Prompto admires Ignis’ humility; whether it stems from years of occupational conditioning or his underhanded, biding, scathing personality, Ignis was always willing to casually concede if it meant moving a situation along. Noctis, on the other hand, still spins around in Gladio’s grip, who seems entirely unphased by the squirmy prince.

“Well now’s not the time, His Royal Kingship is waiting on us _all_ before proceeding,” Gladio scolds them all, his eyes resting briefly on Prompto, the blonde instantly reading his expression to mean he is included in Regis’ audience.

“Do you mean to say that the King has begun the negotiations?” Ignis pompously inquires, blinking slowly, his eyes defiantly focused on Gladio’s own hardened expression.

“No --- it’s us he’s waiting on --- _go_ ,” Gladio adds, pushing Noctis forward with a blunt hand in between his shoulder blades, the black haired man tripping forward and stalking angrily into the Citadel. “Don’t do anything brash on the way to your father’s negotiation room --- this is no time for your stupid shit,”

“So I’ve fucking heard!” Noctis’ sarcastic, bitter voice echoes from the long hallway leading to the coronary wing, at the heart of which sits the throne and negotiation rooms.

“Iggy I know you mean well,” Gladio turns to his best friend, Prompto knowing that the two must have expressed their concerns about him further with one another after leaving the apartment yesterday, for he is instantly able to join in on the conversation without context. “But Prompto’s along for the ride for now, and we need to suck it up until we get these Niffs outta our faces; if they see the infighting and arguing going on, they’ll be galvanized by the weakness in our morale,”

Prompto knew Gladio was far from dumb, but he is impressed by how leader like and strategic he too, could be (perhaps a life long, intimate friendship with Ignis did not come without some transitive insight). Likewise, the brilliant, collected, savagely witty and haughty man he’d grown to know was displaying his own hot headed, argumentative streak Gladio usually reserved for kicking Noctis into shape.

“Plus Regis requested Prompto join us for a reason,”

“I’m aware,” is all Ignis chooses to acknowledge Gladio’s briefing with, walking forward stiffly behind the shield, Prompto taking their motion as a cue to move himself.

“If Noctis gets you in harm’s way…” Ignis starts venomously, turning toward the blonde with a resentment in his eyes that shocks him, even if he knows it’s not directed toward him exactly. “I will never, _ever_ forgive myself,”

* * *

Prompto’s particularly mute morning only just shows signs of easing up as he stands alone with Ignis in his own bedroom. Where Noctis and Gladio had gone ahead toward the negotiations, unable to indulge in breakfast due to their late arrival, Ignis had pulled Prompto aside, deciding to reclothe him in a slightly more appropriate, better-fitted outfit before presenting himself before the entire political sphere as a potential member of the Crownsguard.

Prompto now stands in an all black suit Ignis had tailored from the loomers in the servant’s quarters. The fabric is handsome and rich, the high quality and tapered trim of the suit leaving no doubt in the minds of the uninitiated that Prompto is a natural part of the Lucian entourage.

“I know you still don’t want me here, despite me and Noctis,” Prompto begins, Ignis’ long, skillful fingers twirling gently at Prompto’s lightly freckled neck as he tightens the golden tie just underneath his nervously bobbing adam’s apple.

“King Regis has expressed his desire for your presence, thus my own doubts and concerns are irrelevant at this point and time,” he coldly offers in response, calculated and politically correct as always.

“Any idea why?” Prompto barely whispers.

“As I told Noctis this morning, I have barely been given any more details or coverage on the situation than those I was able to offer you in the car. Their party arrived at the Lucian border at around six in the evening last night, seemingly meaning peace, especially regarding their travelling together with Lady Lunafreya. His Lordship met with Niflheim’s delegation very briefly, both parties agreeing to meet again this very morning,”

“And is this because of Noctis’ and Luna’s ceremony? All those months ago…?” Prompto asks nervously, falling into a lavender colored armchair, Ignis merely looking out the window and onto the courtyard hundreds of feet below.

“I suspect so, yes…”

“Iggy?”

“Yes?” Ignis patiently, though strainedly responds. “I’ve already expressed my concerns and said my piece,” he interrupts as Prompto opens his mouth wide, inhaling a preliminary gust of air. “I feel as if Noctis is electing you from a disingenuous selfishness, rather than a regard for your desires, safety, and well being. He also chooses to do so at a time in which bringing in fresh faced rookies could put our nation and its people at risk; we do not have the time to train and coach, and this country may yet become a war zone, depending on whether or not the Empire maintain their stance as they had in March, during the Covenant. But I have been known to be wrong in the past,”

“So, you _don’t_ hate me?” Prompto cannot help but smile, Ignis stopping his moody gaze out the window and bringing his hazel eyes up slowly to meet Prompto’s blue ones, eyebrow cocked.

“Don’t be so melodramatic; I care dearly for you, Prompto, hence my complete and utter aversion toward Noctis’ decision. I assume you still have yet to inform your parents on your tentative change of career?”

“I mean…” Prompto gulps, definitely choosing to neglect the finer details regarding his and Noctis’ extended make out and King’s Knight binge session. “We went to bed kinda early last night, tired, you know…”

“Indeed…” Ignis mumbles, growing slightly suspicious as Prompto’s nervous shifting and darting eyes give away his fib. “I see hanging out with the prince has lessened your ability to lie…”

“Heh, that Noct, right?” Prompto releases a wary chuckle, jumping as the bedroom doors part, neither Noctis nor Gladio’s frames in the exposed doorway, but rather that of Cor Leonis, the permanently stoic man donning a formal black suit of his own.

“The King requests Prompto Argentum’s arrival,” he booms, Prompto growing nervous at Cor’s distant acknowledgement of the blonde, for they’d met a handful of times, even if only briefly.

“Right, I suppose that is our cue,” Ignis nods. “Thank you, Cor,”

“Naturally, Ignis. Make haste, tensions are quite high between both parties,” he explains, leading the way down a long hallway decorated in black granite and marble. Prompto’s eyes dart about the wide, incredibly high ceilinged, rectangular art gallery the narrow hallway funnels into, his jaw dropping. He’d never been down this part of the Citadel before, even given all of his visits. The portraits are massive and terrifying, depicting scenes of Lucian mythology and antiquity with an eerie datedness that leaves Prompto feeling a cursed dread for even laying his eyes upon the beautiful creations.

He has little time to linger on them, however; the heavy black doors to the negotiation room part. The black and white checkered floor disorients him instantly, small yellow and orange flames polka dotting the candles that hang above the heads of the gathered men and women in metallic, circular chandeliers. The long table is a pearly white granite, the walls made of imposing, stone grey buttresses. The chairs are high backed and forebodingly pointed. The Niflheim delegation sits on the left side, consisting of Iedolas, Verstael, Ardyn (Prompto’s stomach clenches at the sight of the fiery purple hair), Loqi, Ravus, and Luna, who are all flanked by cold, steel humanoids, who are stationary, yet strangely _alive_. The right consists of Regis, Noctis, Clarus Amicita, Gladio’s father, Gladio himself, Titus Drautos, and now Cor, Ignis and Prompto.

He meets the eyes of no one as he takes an empty seat, other than those bright red beads embedded into the iron cavities of the metal giants of the Niflheim Empire.

“Ahh, the more the merrier, I suppose…” Ardyn mumbles right away, Prompto’s cheeks instantly burning as he feels the Chancellor continues to stare at him, even when he does not return his gaze. “The Prince and his blonde as inseparable as ever, I suppose…”

“Let the record show that all those currently present are marked as such for today’s hearing on the First of June!” A female member of Regis’ cabinet crows.

“For what purpose are you dragging your _book keeper_ and your son’s high school friend into our negotiations, Your Highness?” Verstael spits, everyone pointedly ignoring Ardyn. Prompto’s heart rate beats incredibly fast in his ears and throat, awaiting either Noctis’ or Regis’ (for surely Noctis had proposed the idea to his father) explanation that the blonde was a member of the crown prince’s Crownsguard, thus just as qualified as anyone to be in the room. Yet such words never come.

“Such reasons will be revealed in dear time, my dear Emperor,” Regis explains firmly, though cordially. “I’ll have you know such a decision is not made in poor taste toward your Lordship,”

Prompto looks up at Luna, who watches Noctis, her eyes narrowed and tired. Her glowing, unblemished skin is bluntly tarnished by a single dark purple bruise on her soft, round cheek. He wonders sickly to himself how she gained such a mark, his eyes betraying his curiosity as they dart toward Iedolas, who continues to talk.

“Fair enough, your most honorable Highness,” he offers in lofty, though (at least as far as Prompto can sense) mocking respect. The game the two leaders play is far from subtle; Prompto can sense the caution and hatred emanating from both sides of the table, yet they play the role of cordial, civilized parties so well, he wonders if his own light headedness casts a political mirage before his very eyes.

“Please, _continue_ …” Regis kindly waves a hand in a horizontal semi circle before him to address the other side of the table.

“Certainly, Your Excellency,”

Ardyn clears his throat, Prompto catching glimpses of two distinct Glaives behind Regis who stand with their arms behind his back. One is a young, beautiful brown haired woman whose features he would definitely sit and infatuatedly admire were it not for the severity of the negotiations.

“When we last spoke, I was afraid that neither the Caelums nor Lady Nox Fleuret would refuse to continue to uphold their vow…”

Prompto can tell the Chancellor hates being restricted to his seat by his wildly shifting movements within the chair itself, the purple haired man definitely one who preferred the freedom of the open space to deliver his address.

“As can be seen by Lady Lunafreya’s silent presence in your grandiose abode, Your Excellency, we have obtained the Oracle’s direct cooperation, and thus our terms of peace have not been resolved, merely changed,”

“You said if either my son or the Oracle retract our statements, peace could continue!” Regis’ booming, disapproving tone makes up for his glaring fragility.

“Yes, but note the way we said we have the Lady’s _cooperation_ , not her consent to withdraw her statements, Your Majesty --- Lady Lunafreya is quite the cunning little girl --- though we have her under our control, we have still received neither a formal retraction from either yourself or her, and as collateral we demand the following terms be met in exchange for the continued peace and non-aggression between our two kingdoms: the Niflheiman annexation of Galahd and all other territories, with the exclusion of Insomnia itself, and the betrothal of your son, the Prince of Lucis, to the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of Tenebrae, who are to be wed by no later than your Son’s twenty first birthday,”

The roars and out of sync chorus of voices instantaneously fill the room. Prompto nearly lashes his own neck, cutting the air as he quickly turns to face his best friend, who instead shares a shocked, silent look with the Oracle. Her brother, Ravus, sits in his usual, steel-jawed, judgmental silence. Members of Regis’ cabinet discuss the terms loudly with one another, their voices hasty, animated, and emotional. Gladio and Ignis mutter concernedly to one another. The Niflheim delegation whisper quietly amongst themselves, no doubt parsing the Lucian reaction. Prompto and Regis are the only ones who do not speak, Regis’ hand holding Noctis still, his furrowed expression firmly planted upon the men who sit across the table.

The blonde tries desperately within all the chaos to capture Noctis’ attention, though they are seated far enough apart that Noctis misses his advances entirely.

_‘Why won’t he look at me?!’_

“Your Majesty, what of our promise to Galahd that they would regain their sovereignty in two years?!” a bald, dark-skinned advisor pleads, Regis saying nothing, merely continuing to stare straight ahead sternly. Prompto looks wildly about the room, unable to feel his limbs, for they tingle wildly. He is unable to think, unable to meet the eyes of his friends, for they stare at one another, and he is unable to meet those of his best friend, who continues to look at Luna ---

“What purpose should marrying our Prince to the Oracle serve if it is their very union you seem to despise?!” Ignis’ scathing question resonates about the tense, confused rabble, Ardyn grinning slyly as he takes it upon himself to answer the question.

“A union of mankind is a far different beast than a union of the stars, Scientia,” he slurs, Ignis’ fists clenched in an implacable aggression, his frame rigid as he slowly takes his seat.

“We accept,” Regis whispers, closing his eyes wearily and clasping his hands upon the table.

“Say again, Your Majesty?” Ardyn sensually relishes, the voices on both sides of the table coming to a silence.

“We accept your terms, Chancellor Izunia,” Regis repeats, no less exhausted, though much more loudly. Prompto notices the two Glaives from before --- one of them a brown-haired man, as well as the brown haired woman, are quietly shocked. It was the first time Prompto could say he had ever seen a Glaive express a candid emotion where their position called for utter stoicism.

“Hah! And here I thought it would take much more negotiating than _that_!” Ardyn sings, cutting into the brief silence that followed Regis’ concession. Iedolas and Verstael closing their eyes irritably, Loqi and Ravus silent; Noctis and Luna have yet to acknowledge anyone other than the other. “Be sure to mark this day in history as the day the first crack in the Lucian foundation finally sprung a leak…”

“Silence, Izunia!” Iedolas roars, his eyes cast sideways on the meditating, still Regis.

“Further talks regarding the explicit details of your terms shall resume later this evening,” Regis announces, standing from his chair, his hand on his cane shaking; Prompto swallows with a sickening gulp --- the King looked absolutely ravaged. The two Glaives immediately rush to his assistance, Gladio standing to move Regis’ chair from behind him.

“Please forgive my abrupt recess,” he concludes, exiting the room with the Glaives, another party of Glaives accompanying the Niflheim party toward the banquet hall so they may partake in lunch. Prompto rises, watching Noctis ever still, his stomach plummeting through his feet as the prince fails to acknowledge him, never taking his eyes off the Oracle, who instantly rushes toward the prince, the two wordlessly embracing.

Their arms drag along those of the other before bringing their hands to clasp together, Noctis appearing suddenly tall and kingly as he gently and delicately consoles the beautiful woman, who closes her eyes as Noctis caresses her cheek.

“Come, Prompto ---“ Ignis mumbles emotionlessly, bringing a hand around his shoulder and forcing him from the room. The shepherding leaves the blonde unable to observe the rest of their emotional scene. Gladio joins them as well, their walk down the hallway slow and shaken. Ignis massages his temples, eyes closed, Gladio slowly shifting back and forth, his towering frame uncertain and tensed.

“What the hell just happened in there?!” Gladio whispers, gesturing down the hall, voices ringing as they head for the ballroom on the other side of the Citadel.

“I don’t know,” Ignis quietly utters, the bespectacled man either stunned or lost in thought.

“The King just _agreed_ , no details, no explanation about Noct or Luna---”

 _'They seemed to be alright with the news of marrying each other…'_ Prompto contemplates with a dull tug of his heart.

“I know,” Ignis’s tone does not change, his amber eyes diagonally fixed upon the floor.

“Why did he bring Prompto?”

_'He didn’t even look in my direction the whole time, just at her ---'_

“Not a clue,” Ignis whispers, arms crossed at his chest.

“How are Galahd and the other territories gonna take this?!”

_'He didn’t even care about why Regis wanted me in that room, it was just about her, about Luna ---'_

“I don’t know,”

“Would they see this as an act of war?” Gladio continues to question, Prompto’s own arms folded, chewing on his bottom lip, his breathing quiet but shallow as his mind spins to understand the wild events as they had taken place.

_'And she instantly ran to him, into his arms, and he held her there, and kissed her temples ---'_

“I cannot say,”

“Are we sure King Regis is well, Iggy?”

_'I guess he’s had all the practice he needs ---'_

“The King seemed mentally fit to make the decision, if not physically,” Ignis contemplates.

“What do the Niffs have planned? I have a hard time believing the terms are that simple,”

“Prompto ---“ Ignis starts concernedly, for the blonde’s shoulders rack as he shakes his head, overcome with his own internal anguish. “I --- _I dunno, Gladio_ \--- Prompto! _Prompto!_ ” Ignis shouts after Prompto as he runs off, the blonde completely uninterested in where he goes. He extends a hand forward as he pushes his way through the ballroom, the watery outlines of Niflheim and Lucian delegates talking peacefully in his vision, plates in their hand bedecked with light finger food.

He stumbles as he misjudges the distance between the concrete edge of the citadel and the emerald grass of the royal gardens, flowers bloomed and manicured in a breath taking floral representation of late spring. The sky above is as blue and cloudless as any day in early June, the breeze warm and comforting, not a single trace of humidity to be felt along its current. He tries to steady his breathing as he focuses on a fat little bumblebee who clumsily hovers in between the folded petals of a peach colored rose, though he knows the exercise fails when he feels the weight of the tears dropping into the ground.

_‘How could I have been so damn stupid?’_

He stifles his sobs, lips slightly parted as he manages to even out his emotions in the expression of a single, quivering sigh.

“Quite an interesting turn of events, yes?” A drawling, sultry voice questions him from over his shoulder, Prompto instantly turning around, staggering slowly backward from the flamboyant man, for only the two of them stand in the garden.

“Dry those tears now, child…” Ardyn pines, sucking his teeth in mock sympathy. “You cannot let the future king see you cry, or he will think you to be _weak_ ,”

Prompto bumps directly into a large, marble pillar in his attempt to back away further, a smile curling on Ardyn’s lips as he knows the blonde to be cornered. He still takes his time in approach, his steps agonizingly slow, Prompto looking frantically on either side of him for his escape ---

“Prompto Argentum, was it?” Ardyn whispers, stopping just short of their chests colliding. Prompto holds his breath in, refusing to answer either way. “Such a nervous, jumpy, _pretty boy_ , so scared and in need of protection…no wonder the prince looks at you so…”

“Shut up!” Prompto spits, the Chancellor’s teasing mention of Noctis channeling his fear into a distinct rage. Ardyn’s smile does not slip away, even as he is spoken to impolitely by a commoner. He seems to have not even heard Prompto’s barking command.

“Though I suppose Noct’ll have his work as King cut out for him, for how can he protect both his Oracle and his… _friend_?”

Prompto’s shoulders are still tensed, the blonde wishing more than ever he had kept the ceremonial daggers on his person at all times. Yet he is grateful he does not, for the last thing the negotiations needed was the technically unprovoked stabbing of the Chancellor of Niflheim.

“Prompto Argentum --- that’s a Lucian name, isn’t it?! The name meaning Quicksilver, in our modern tongue…”

“I --- I don’t know --- ?!” Prompto nervously stutters, the blonde having no recollection of his birth parents, for he had been in and out of foster care, at the mercy of the Insomnian State Government for the first fourteen years of his life – he’d never even seen his own birth certificate, let alone his heritage or the truth of his origins.

“I want to know how an _Insomnian_ boy with a Lucian name came about with such a special little mark…” Ardyn snatches Prompto’s slender arm by his wrist, roughly dragging the fabric of his dress shirt up his forearm and exposing the bar code on the underside of his wrist.

“Funny, that a crown citizen should have the mark of the Empire on his body ---“

“Leave me alone!” Prompto half begs half commands, snatching his arm away. His heart beats rapidly as he stands frozen against the pillar, cradling his arm closely against his body, shielding the bar code. “I don’t know what it is, I don’t know who you are, I don’t care what you want, _leave me alone_!”

“I must say, it is a mark of your _true_ father’s craftsmanship that such a defunct and broken little experiment like you happened to function after all ---“ Ardyn snatches the arm back. "Do you know what this mark means, where it's from, haven't you ever wondered?"

“Let go of me!” Prompto pleads ignoring him. He nearly dislocates his shoulder as he attempts to break free from Ardyn, whose grip is significantly stronger than the young man’s. “Surely you recognized your _cousins_ in dear Regis’ throne room?” Ardyn asks cryptically.

"Cousins?"

"The Magitek soldiers --- my, no wonder Noct was at the top of his class," Ardyn shakes his head, never breaking their stare at one another.

“Units like you were specifically manufactured to keep close tabs on the King of Lucis, did you know that, _Prompto_?” he weightlessly gloats, licking his lips as fear and disbelief cast a veil across Prompto’s blue eyes.

"W-what do you mean, _manufactured_?! What do you mean keeping tabs?!" Prompto stammers, losing his voice to his own worry and recoiling away from the man.

“Look at the way the bar code comes to a point – the very mark of the royal tailgater – the very thing you are..."

"You're insane..." Prompto whispers, though unable to draw himself away from the conversation that sends chills down his body.

"I’ve been looking into you, my dear --- I don't understand how you can find me insane when my explanation is the only possible one for a life as varied as yours! Did you really think a _poor foster care_ boy like you had any business at Lucian Friends in the first place? Did you not find it _strange_ the way you assuredly longed and pined after Prince Noctis, the way your mind was always occupied with thoughts of this strange boy you barely even _knew_? Did you not find it ever more strange that the two of you met again, _years later_ , and you find yourself yet again unable to pull yourself away from him?! It is because you were created and manufactured to trail and stalk the boy! The only mistake I made was assuming you were faulty, why, the only thing wrong in your wiring is you haven’t _reported back to us_ aboutthe prince yet! Then again, if your programming still works so well thus far, perhaps your instinct just may trigger!”

“Who are you…why are you telling me this?” Prompto whimpers, Ardyn bringing a finger to Prompto’s trembling lips.

“Why, if it were me, I would want to know the truth...did you think it was _fate_? Did you think it was The Six bringing you together, a divine hand and eye taking note of you, Prompto Argentum the unloved orphan boy, playing a role in your _pathetic, meaningless_ life?”

Ardyn sees the resolve within the blonde completely unravel, the young man rendered entirely speechless --- with his best friend out of the picture, Ardyn saw an easily breakable prince.  “I’m sorry to say your closeness and feelings for the prince have nothing to do with fate or Gods or Kings, but merely come down to _quality Niflheim engineering_ …it is what you were designed and _built_ to do,” Ardyn sadly sings, backing away slowly from Prompto, his devious smile ever present. “Little boys pretending to be Kings, and bastards of half-failed experiments pretending to be Lucians --- what on _Eos_ kind of a shit show is Regis running behind this wall of his?” Ardyn tisks, slinking away into the shade. “Merely know that Kings are not known for their charity --- expect none from the prince in waiting once he finds out the truth about you, either --- one day you will both come to realize you are playing a role much too impossible for you to fill, _‘Prompto Argentum’,_ ”

 _"There goes the prince's only respite..."_ Ardyn mockingly whispers before disappearing down the hall toward the Citadel. Prompto stands catatonically frozen, even after Ardyn departs for the ballroom once more, the blonde’s mind swirling with dozens of questions regarding the Chancellor’s puzzling message.

“Prompto…” the blonde jumps, not entirely sure how long he’d be so completely unaware of Ignis’ jogging toward the resigned blonde’s figure. The older of the two men cannot help but feel somewhat guilty; for all of his harsh honesty toward both Noctis and Prompto earlier, he hardly derives any pleasure from seeing the blonde so despondent and discouraged.

“You’re right, Iggy…”

“Prompto ---“

“I don’t --- I can’t be here,” he lets the words tumble from his mouth, overwhelmed with various emotions, his eyes bloodshot, his damp cheeks catching the light of the sun as he slowly turns to face Noctis’ minder.

“Prompto, I --- I meant many things both this morning and yesterday afternoon, but I did not mean to imply that you do not _possess the character to be a Glaive_ ,” Ignis carefully treads, though meaning his words.

“Funny then how the one message you should have sent, you _didn’t_ , then…” the blonde scoffs, smiling before shaking his head disbelievingly. He is completely dazed, terrified and drained, and he can no longer stand it --- _any of it_. “I guess that’s why there’s a waiting list, then? A waiting list and an initiation ceremony, for quitters like me, on the first day on the job…” He does not care how self pitying his monologue may sound. “Do you think that’s why the King wanted me in that room? When you mentioned it yesterday, did he get the idea in his head? Rather than reject me outright, he’d let the nature of the game itself show me that I don’t have what it takes?”

“Prompto, what in the world has gotten into your head, what happened?! Are you alright?!”

“I --- I dunno, Ignis ---“ Prompto chokes, growing sick at the thought of his brief conversation with the Chancellor, who seemed to know Prompto way more than he knew the Chancellor, than he even knew _himself_ \---

“I cannot say for certain why he asked for your presence, but I can assure you that was not the intent of the King --- it is all a very strange and unforseen culmination of circumstances ---“

“I don’t even know who I am, Ignis,” Prompto cuts him off, Ignis sighing and closing his eyes solemnly.

“But I _do_ know I can’t even stand this hell for twenty minutes, let alone a lifetime…” Prompto whispers, his quiet hiccup cutting off his own soft, ironic chuckle. He is merely glad that, where it would all one day have to come to a head, it did so immediately sooner rather than drudgingly later.

“The news of the betrothal is what it is that makes it all clear to you, I presume?” Ignis questions softly and sympathetically, Propmto unclenching his sweaty, clammy hands. He bends his wrist, careful to hide the bar code Prompto had always just assumed to be a remnant of a particularly traumatizing foster home he had forgotten, that he had ignored. Yet after Ardyn’s drawling monologue, he cannot help but question it, but fear himself to be some sort of perversion, some sort of lie, a stranger even to himself.

“I’m sorry, Prompto,” Ignis slowly shakes his head at the blonde’s silence, Prompto thinning his lips in an attempt to prevent himself from falling further prey to his emotions.

“I don’t belong here…” he bluntly states. “Not as Prompto the Best Friend, Prompto the Photographer, or Prompto the Glaive…” he brings the edge of his hand to wipe the corners of his eyes. Such had been the theme, even ten years ago at Lucian Friends: with the same shirts with the dirt rings, the same peeling shoes with the fraying, white-turned-grey laces, the duct taped backpack, the lunchlessness, yet somehow still overweight --- it was _never_   Prompto’s world. Fashioning himself and shaving and chiseling himself away at his awkward, unshapely edges would never mold him into Lucian aristocracy. Where Noctis had always been his beckoning call to the Hall of Kings, Prompto had always known, always feared, always suspected, that the doors would forever be locked to him.

He thinks disgustedly back to Ardyn’s words, that he had been planted, programmed to run forever headlong into the thick, royal walls, a failed, manufactured assassin --- he tries to push the words out of his head, but he finds they ring so fittingly, for the bar code was too specific a culmination of melanin to be a mere coincidence, and they’d indeed matched those of the Magitek Soldiers --- what if Prompto's hidden triggers were to be activated by their presence? He could not stand by the side of the king should he run the risk of divulging the most intimate of Lucian secrets, due to his programming.

 “Sorting out your feelings will take a long time, Prompto…” Ignis laments, the two men sharing the silent understanding one another.

“Well, he’ll be _busy_ , right? Learning how to be king, his marriage to Luna…he won’t have the time to miss me…”

“What are you planning on doing, Prompto?”

“Lestallum --- I-I’m gonna g-go…” he stutters slightly, recoiling as a particularly violent image of him slashing Ignis’ throat with a ceremonial blade plays before his eyes. Is that what he is meant to do, if the words of the Chancellor are true?

“I mean, in general, tonight, _right now..._ ”

“Leaving, going home…” Prompto nods, not having registered his question right away. Ignis is taken aback by the young man’s anxiousness, Prompto producing a square object wrapped in black and gold tissue paper from his camera bag and placing it forcefully into Ignis’ hands. “Give this to Noct, if he ever gets a moment…”

“Prompto, did something happen to you out here between your departure and me finding you?” Ignis deduces with a quickness Prompto admires deep below the dozens of layers of emotional turmoil.

“No --- I just --- it’s just too much…” he hastily lies, his skin suddenly growing too hot, his mind going blank.

“Right, I’ll…I’ll summon Noctis to say goodbye---”

 _“Don’t!”_ Prompto sharply commands, Ignis jumping slightly at the shrillness in the blonde’s voice. “Don’t, it’s --- it’s hard enough ---“

“Then allow me to arrange a convoy for you to take you back home ---“

“No, I’m --- I’m leaving, I _have_ to go!” Prompto’s eyes linger on Ignis’ for a second before he awkwardly tears away once more, running back into the open hallway that eventually leads to the Citadel’s public, although heavily guarded, entrance. By the time Ignis has the mind to follow or stop him, his figure is a dot against the massive, ornate golden doors, parted for him by Glaives, the former track runner blending into the Insomnian backdrop as he puts as much distance between the royal family and himself as possible.

* * *

 “I’m telling you, Gladio, I strongly suspect something happened to Prompto out in that garden before I found him…” Ignis mutters before taking a long, deep drag of a cigarette --- it is the first cigarette he smokes since having kicked the habit at nineteen two years ago, yet he felt the entire day warranted it. He leans against a pillar that supports the open-walled hallway that connected the Citadel to its public gate, surrounded by at least twenty acres of manicured garden. His legs are crossed at his ankles, the toes of his sharp, dark brown dress shoes digging into the concrete moist with evening dew. Only the top of the sun now rests against the horizon, everything cast in a glow of magenta, violet, and maroon. Gladio sits with his bottom on the concrete, his knees supporting his arms, one hand limply holding a lit cigarette of his own.

“He was shaken by the news, and certainly no more at ease because of my earlier grilling --- he seemed highly disoriented, almost as if he had forgotten who he was, where we were ---“

“You sayin’ his memory was addled with?” Gladio questions before taking a sharp drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his cheeks before blowing it out heavily through his nose.

“No, not exactly --- but he did not seem right at all, very distracted, very worried…”

“Well, he learned the prince he loves will never return his feelings a thousand years into the Lucian bloodline, even if he _has_ them,”

“Yes, but this is different, I _swear_ it to you, Gladio…”

“Either way, kid’s leavin’ for Lestallum after all --- I’m hopin’ he quits bein’ weird enough to let Noct know himself, can’t say I’m volunteerin’ to be the one who tells the prince after a day like _this_ …” Gladio rolls his eyes, moving over to give Ignis room to sit down next to him.

“I haven’t heard from Prompto since he left, nor has he responded to my texts,”

“Me neither,” Gladio sighs, holding up his smart phone and shaking it. “Maybe the kid needs a couple of days and as many miles between him and Noct as possible before he can face it,”

“Perhaps…” Ignis puffs the butt two evenly-spaced times, Gladio smiling at his best friend’s extraordinarily high class engagement with something as low class as smoking.

“You know what’s funny, Iggy?” Gladio grins, Ignis exhaling smoke before uttering a soft purr of a “Hmm?” in response to the shield’s question.

“We’ve been preparing for the days that are to come for our whole _lives_ ,” the bearded man shakes his head, running a hand through the cropped, sweaty hair atop his head. “And yet I can’t say this is how I ever saw it happenin’,”

“What do you mean?!”

“The day that really marked when Noctis would go from prince to king. I know he’s got a couple months left, and his father’s still kickin’…” Gladio adds before Ignis can pedantically correct him. “But the writing is on the wall. They’ve been in negotiations for hours, and while Old Reggie may’ve conceded easily, I think we have some trying times ahead of us. I don’t trust it,” Gladio narrows his eyes, staring forward as the sun finally sets completely, the first stars of the evening beginning to twinkle in the sky.

“I cannot say I look forward to whatever the Empire has planned,” Ignis agrees, crushing his cigarette against the base of the pillar. “But I must try to save face for Noctis --- he will need strength in my certainty, particularly where Prompto will not be there to keep him as emotionally grounded as he’s managed the last few months…and even where you may find it hard to stand, you must do so for Noctis as well --- I fear he will need us more than ever…”

“I think you’re right --- _speak of the devil_ …” Gladio whispers over his shoulder, Ignis looking too: Noctis and Luna walk the length of the garden a good two hundred feet away from the two men, the grounds illuminated by the moon above, Noctis’ suit jacket draped gentlemanly over Luna’s shoulders. The two stop, clearly engaged in intimate conversation, Ignis and Gladio shifting in unison as Luna stands upon her tiptoes to place her arms around his neck and bring the prince into a tasteful, romantic kiss.

“I suppose they are soon to be husband and wife, after all,” Ignis rationalizes, Gladio exhaling wearily. “Good for him for havin’ found the moves to not scare away a dame like that, I guess,” he chuckles once, elbowing Ignis in the ribs as the prince and the Oracle break apart, Noctis placing his hands on the woman’s hips as they talk further.

“Maybe he learned from the master, eh?!” he laughs, Ignis instantly growing bright pink.

“Stop right now! At least I don’t think he ever caught me kissing any of the girls I’d bring around from school…” Ignis mumbles introspectively, Gladio chuckling once more as Noctis kisses Luna’s hand before taking his leave toward his two closest advisors.

“Hey…” Noctis breathlessly addresses them as he finally reaches them, scratching sheepishly behind his neck; he is certain the two saw them kiss.

“Oh, Noct…” Ignis bows his head dramatically forward, not even knowing where to begin.

“What’s up with him?” Noctis asks Gladio, who bows his head backward, letting out a few forced, dramatic laughs.

“It’s just been a long day…” Ignis defeatedly offers.

“I see you and Luna are warmin’ up for your sprint to the matrimony finish line,” Gladio teases, Noctis folding his arms and turning his head. _“Oh my God, shut up…”_   he forcefully mutters; while the union was strange, Noctis finds he certainly does not mind taking Luna as his wife. He’d been attracted to her since hitting puberty, and found that of all of the details of the negotiations, being contractually obligated to marry a beautiful, strong, intelligent friend and princess was hardly twisting his arm behind his back. Yet still, he cannot say that kissing her filled him with the same fulfilling warmth and desire that kissing Prompto did, even if it was all just for practice, of course…

“Don’t tell anyone, but ---" Noctis leans forward, Ignis and Gladio leaning into the prince’s whisper. “She’s goin’ away to Altissa to seek political asylum,”

“What do you mean _going_?!” Ignis nearly shouts, Noctis jumping and shushing him shrilly.

“She’s running away, and even when the Niffs get word of it, there’s nothing they can do, because challenging Altissa to give her back would be dragging Accordo into war, and they don’t have the resources for open war with Accordo,”

“She’s running away tonight?!”

“No, on the way back to the Empire, I guess, once negotiations are over,” Noctis explains with a casualty Ignis cannot begin to comprehend.

“So Lady Lunafreya has orchestrated her grand escape…did she say anything about what the hell is goin’ on? Why they want you guys married, or what they meant by they have her cooperation, or whether or not she can continue her work as Oracle?” Gladio asks, Noctis folding his arms.

“She said she’d tell me with Umbra later,”

“Right, I suppose it would be unwise to disclose all the details before a live and captivated Niflheim audience…” Ignis concurs.

“And you’re not concerned?”

“I mean, I am…but Luna begged me not to worry about her, to live my own life and worry about Insomnia and my dad, and that she’d keep in touch everyday…”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“Don’t really have a choice, do I? Luna does what she does, I haven’t seen a thing stop her yet…” Noctis concedes in dreamy admiration for the woman.

“We were in there _forever_ \--- boring old men sure can be draining to listen to for nearly twelve hours…”

“Tell me about it,” Ignis mumbles flatly, Gladio laughing at his best friend’s reaction, thankful that through it all, they could at least share some sense of humor.

“I’m worried, though…why did dad just give in like that?” Noctis asks softly, Ignis shrugging his shoulders.

“Just promise us that you will be a lot kinder to us as advisors to the King who _cannot_ read minds when you assume your father’s throne!” Ignis sassily pleads, Noctis grinning and nodding slowly.

“As if you’d ever crawl far enough outta my ass to let me do anything without you guys knowing about it,”

“Don’t worry, Noct, your old man’s always got a plan --- we may not know what it is, but I’ve never seen His Excellency not stay three steps ahead of the Niffs…”

“Yeah…so I’m spending the night tonight, ‘cause we’re goin’ right back in there at eight tomorrow morning…I gotta find Prompto so I can let him know we’re in my bed tonight…” Noctis muses casually out loud, Gladio and Ignis shifting awkwardly, sharing a look with one another.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning, what’s he been doing this whole time?”

“Noct ---“

“I guess I’ll go look for him ---“

“Noctis ---“

“He’s probably in the kitchen looking for food ---“

 _“NOCTIS!”_ Ignis shouts, finally grabbing the prince’s flighty attention.

“…Yeah?” Noctis asks sarcastically, for after shouting his name, Ignis goes quiet.

“Don’t panic, Noct ---“ Gladio starts, internally kicking himself as a look of worry instantly furrows Noctis’ features.

“You know, starting off with _don’t panic_ is a really bad way to get me to not panic, Gladio!” Noctis hastily growls, Ignis taking off his glasses and massaging his face.

“Prompto was incredibly overwhelmed by the events of today…”

“Is he layin’ down in my room?”

“He’s _gone_ , Noct, he’s leaving for Lestallum first thing in the morning!” Ignis blurts it out angrily, unable to dance around it any further.

“What?! Are you trying to be _funny_ right now?! Where the hell is Prompto?!” Noctis growls, shaking his head and trying to step past them, but Gladio rises and places a firm hand on the prince’s chest.

“Noctis, I am afraid that Prompto was entirely heartbroken by the news of your betrothal to Lunafreya…”

“What the fuck do you _mean heartbroken_?!”

“And I also worry that something unsavory happened at some point during the day, for he did not quite seem alright ---“

“And none of you have tried calling him?! Or going to his house?!” Noctis desperately shouts, instantly bringing his phone to his ear as he frantically calls his best friend. The line rings multiple times before going to his voice mail, at which point he slams his thumb on the end call button.

“We’ve been trying all day, Noct, but we’ve only got the same results as you,” Ignis evenly explains, Noctis pacing back and forth, hunched over aggressively as he tries calling again. He repeats the cycle three times in a row before he smashes the phone against the ground, the device splintering into dozens of metal and glass shards.

“Now you do that, you definitely won’t be able to reach him ---“

 _“FUCK OFF!”_ Noctis hisses, sniffing as he bites back tears. _“SO THAT’S IT THEN, HE’S GOING?!”_

_“Noct…”_

_“AND NONE OF YOU TRIED TO STOP HIM?! NONE OF YOU THOUGHT TO GO TO HIS HOUSE AND CHECK ON IF HIM AND HIS FAMILY AREN’T ANSWERING THE PHONE?!”_

“He probably needs some space _away_ from you, Noctis ---“

“He probably needs some space because you guys were fucking _yelling_ at him all day for just existing ---!”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Noctis, the boy is in love with you!” Ignis finally roars, silencing Gladio and Noctis, who still stands aggressively hunched, albeit frozen and quiet.

“What?” he whispers, straightening out as he turns to Ignis, who lights another cigarette pincered between his full lips. “S-since when d-do you smoke…?!” he asks in a sheepish tangent. “Since complication reared its ugly head once more,” Ignis snaps. “Prompto is  _in love_   with you, you bloody fuckin’ idiot,” he reiterates once more, his voice muffled by the cigarette he holds in place.

“How long have you known…?” Noctis asks them both quietly, though neither of them answer him right away.

“Noct, it’s been pointedly obvious since the beginning,” Ignis cocks an eyebrow, Gladio draping an arm around his friend’s shoulder before uttering a “Mhm” in agreement.

“He knew he could be neither a friend nor guard to you as long as he loves you, and your own love and affection went toward someone else,” Gladio explains flatly, Noctis’ teeth clenched as tears cling to his long, black eyelashes. He shakes them away as he stares at the grass, his fists balled at his side. "But -- but I--" Noctis awkwardly responds, Ignis dragging more smoke before continuing.

“He’s going away to Lestallum so he can get _over_ you and come back to you as the friend you deserve, and as a friend that doesn’t leave him in a bad place emotionally ---“

“But what if he _doesn’t_ come back?! What if we’re at war, what if Lestallum gets nuked, who _knows_ what the hell could happen between now and five years in the future!” Noctis pleads to them both, as if his shield and tactician alone could make him promises that not even The Six can fulfill.

“I promised him _everything,_ the _world,_ I told him I’d protect him ---“ Noctis stares at the ground, fists balled at his side.

“And imagine being promised those things by the prince you love,” Gladio offers from Prompto’s perspective, Noctis sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Noct, I know you’re going to find my point of view very unpopular…” Ignis starts through a cloud of smoke. “…but if you care for Prompto the way we all know you do, you’d respect his wish and leave him alone until he’s ready to contact _you_ , do you understand?”

His breath rattles as he nods his head once, though in reality he does _not_ understand, he does not understand why the blonde had not said goodbye, or told him his feelings before he left, or why he ignores the three men who try to reach him ---

"You mean he just _left_ , he's _leaving_ , my best friend, he's upset and distraught over who _knows_ what, and I'm just supposed to not say anything --"

“Seriously, Bud --- Prom got hit with a pretty big bombshell today --- his best friend that he loves is engaged to the girl he has a crush on --- a bit of a double feature…” Gladio sympathetically mutters.

“I’m sure Prompto will reach out to you when he’s ready,” Ignis stands, placing a caring hand on Noctis’ shoulder, a gesture he appreciates, even if he does not show it. “And understand that while it hurts, this is the best thing for you both. We all know you wanted him as a Glaive because you wanted him to stay here, with you --"

"He'd still make a great Glaive!" Noctis snaps back.

"Yes, if he gave it careful thought, and understood that such a commitment is life long and incredibly involved. He was willing to take the oath for _you_ , Noctis. It wouldn't have been right of any of us to allow him to go through with it, and we all know that,"

Noctis says nothing, his eyes fixed on the very same exit of the Citadel that Prompto had taken hours ago.

"Don't you think about running to that boy's house, you heed what I said -- you leave him alone, and give him the space to contact _you_ ," Ignis firmly instructs.

"But even apart from it all, he’s getting a world class education at that art school and pursuing his passion. I'm sure it won't be long before he's inviting you out for the weekend. He just needs a bit of time,” Gladio rationalizes.

“Yeah…” Noctis tersely whispers, more so to end the conversation than out of agreement.

“He left this for you…” Ignis whispers, handing him the artfully wrapped package, which Noctis gently takes into his hands. He wastes no time in carefully unwrapping it, the tissue paper falling to the grass as a dark red leather notebook rests in his hands. He opens it quickly, instantly reading an emerald green, handwritten message on the inside of the cover.

_Hey, Noct! I practiced my handwritten calligraphy with Ignis for months to make this legible, so you better read it! I got the idea for this two days after we talked about getting each other graduation gifts. I know that a book doesn’t really compare to a brand new car (remember that stupid article?), or a villa, or a world class education that you offered me instead of Lestallum, but I thought it’d be a cool homage to the way we met. It’s not much, Noct, especially compared to whatever it is you’re getting me, and the same way I’m not a lot, especially compared to you, but you mean a lot to me, and this is the best way I can show it. You really are the most amazing person I've ever met. I'm glad that Umbra brought us together, and I'm glad you gave me a ride home that day. You've changed my whole life, everything is so much brighter with you in it. Not because you're rich or a prince, but because of how wonderful of a friend you are, and I wanted to show you how._

Noctis flips through the entire notebook, filled with dozens of pictures Prompto had taken of the two of them and the places they’d visited together over the course of their friendship, each one captioned by the unique and newly perfected, curly scrawl of Prompto. Each image is a newly drilled hole in the young man’s heart, the pictures as recent as yesterday, when the men had helped him move into his apartment.

"Everything alright, Noct?" Ignis asks, though Noctis does not respond. He finds himself able to hold it in until he reaches the back of the inside cover, upon which a bit of small, curly script can be read.

_Thank you for making time for this loser, Noctis. I love you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love LOTR a lot. The Breaking of the Fellowship refers to a chapter in the first book of the trilogy, where I derived this chapter's name from. There's a song by the same name in the LOTR soundtrack, whose lyrics very much fit Promptis' current situation, funnily enough.
> 
> Okay, a lot like last chapter, Prompto's departure scene was one of the FIRST scenes I had in my mind since I first started writing this thing. The funny thing about writing is that your work really does take on a life of its own. I was initially gonna have Prompto stay the summer with Noctis as his Crownsguard. He wasn't going to doubt himself or it all until the coronation ceremony, which also served as a joint celebration of him and Luna's betrothal. I was gonna have Prompto see Noctis and Luna dancing and then kissing, thus leading to him realizing that he cannot commit until shedding his feelings. I was gonna have Ignis and Gladio able to tell that seeing them together bothered him, but still try to convince him to stick it out. I was gonna have Noctis present Prompto with his Crownsguard fatigues after dancing with Luna, where Prompto broke down and admitted his feelings in person, leaving him there that night for Lestallum after saying he couldn't handle watching them.
> 
> I KINDA think I like this completely and utterly different version more! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also this shit was SO angsty. It even kinda had me gagging a bit but hey, whatever. One of my FAVORITE things about Noctis' and Prompto's relationship, even canonically and platonically speaking, is the way Noctis is very lazy, standoffish, and ambivalent about every damn thing, but as soon as Prompto and his feelings and safety come into question, Noctis will tear down a whole entire Empire to make sure he always has his friend's back. It was the thing I noticed in game that eventually led to me shipping them. Also, it was fun writing out an argumentative Ignis and a referee Gladio. I feel like their streaks are different animals altogether: Gladio will deck Noctis in the teeth if they get heated enough arguing with him from a place of frustration and anger, whereas Ignis argues from a place of calmness and an innate, internal knowledge of always being right.
> 
> Sorry, these notes are kinda long.


	20. The Six Are Watching

Early August is fierce and unforgiving. The clouds are thin, the lack of moisture in their fluffy bowels spreading them sparsely across the deep blue of the skyline like wispy ribbons. Noctis swore, once or twice, actual flames lashed out from the Sun like a cosmic whip and flogged the Crown City until it was a smoldering, smoking welt, cratered into the face of the world. The smog had risen, obfuscating the sky scrapers, and giving Noctis an excuse to remain anti-socially shrouded in shadow in his apartment. Insomnia, a metropolitan oasis, was enveloped by a desert, arid and sporadically peppered by seismic clusters of dark brown stone, under which not a single drop of water finds refuge from certain evaporation. Although Lucian citizens enjoy the comfort of air conditioning, compared to those unfortunately singled out by providence to live beyond the luxuries of the wall, sometimes Noctis could see the squiggled rising of the heat as it swished its stifling waves atop the pavement. Even when he cannot see it, he can _feel_ it.

The air conditioning for the whole apartment had been broken since that morning. The Duscaen movie star down the hall threatened to terminate his lease early --- by ejecting the lease itself from a cannon he owned in his apartment. A Galahdian athlete on the fourth floor had threatened to jump from a floor higher to his death for every hour the complex went without climate control. A distantly related Duke or Earl (Noctis cannot remember, nor could he bring himself to care) had already summoned the police and news agencies _twice_.

The most pertinent issue that arose from living in the finest, multi-family complex within the Lucian Kingdom, was certainly that of having to share his space with melodramatic individuals who had turned the high rise apartments into a forty storeyed theater troupe.

Although Noctis had failed the auditions, it was not to say he had not carefully studied the script. Apart from his loose, breezy, light blue boxers around his waist, Noctis is completely naked, drenched in a shiny coat of sweat. His black hair clings to his forehead like soft, hungry leeches, and he moans whinily at his own pathetic misery. Although his grappling with the incessant heat wave involves neither suicide nor media attention, his suffering elicits its own self-indulgent soundtrack. He lies flat across his leather couch, his left leg stretched across the back of it, his other dangling at a dislocated, obtuse angle, and the tips of his toes brushing against the purple shag.

 _“The HVAC guy’ll be out as soon as he can, Noct…”_   Ignis’s muffled voice tiredly informs him through the speaker of his greasy, sweat slicked cellphone.

 _"As soon as he can_ isn’t _right now_ , Ignis…” Noctis stops himself from swearing, his parched throat dehydrated by the cruel air.

 _“Well what would you have me do, Noctis?!”_ Ignis breathlessly snaps, Noctis rolling his eyes and swinging his phone away from himself in irritation before bringing it back to his hear. “I am not going through the trouble of organizing a royal press release because your arse is too _lazy_ to turn on a fan ---“

“I dunno, just…get someone out here…get a heating and cooling dude who _isn’t_ taking forever…”

_“Understand, Noct, that only the Kings of Lucis have the power to warp --- I’m afraid no AC repairmen can just fly to your flat. Also, stamping your fists in a temper tantrum solves nothing, no matter how big and royal your fists are…”_

_“Shut up, Ig, he’s here…he’s at the door…”_ Noctis whines muffledly through the hand he sluggishly drags across his clammy face.

_“Don’t throw that phone too --- there’re only so many replacements budgeted you know ---“_

Noctis blinks a stinging sweat from his eyes, shaking his pruny feet of their pins and needles as he staggers toward the door as a second set of loud raps echoes dully against his ear drums. He groans in a half invested acknowledgement of his unseen guest, Noctis wrenching the door open fumingly. The first chill he feels in days does not stem from any change in the ventilation system, but rather from the sight of the dusty, heat stroked, sunburnt Prompto in front of him, who heaves breathlessly against his door frame.

 _“Prom---!”_ Noctis breathlessly whispers, blinking rapidly and stepping slightly backwards.

 _“N-Noct…”_ the blonde gasps, a mingle of shock and worry widening Noctis’ previously lethargic expression. He instantly holds his arms out as Prompto makes to walk in, stumbling in his own weakness.

“Prom, holy shit ---“ Noctis disbelievingly swears, his arms untangling from around the warm frame of his best friend, his hands brushing dried dirt off his mud-crusted shoulders.

“What the _hell_ , Prom?! I haven’t --- I haven’t seen or _heard_ from you in nearly _three_ months --- you’re just at my _door_ , you look a fucking _mess_ \--- what ---?!” Noctis rapidly questions, his voice slightly high pitched as the blonde in his arms relaxes into an affectionate embrace that the prince cannot help but immediately return.

“I --- I got here b-by _foot_ , Noct, I’ve been on the r-road f-for nearly _eight d-days_ \---“ Prompto stutters, Noctis setting him down on the couch and instantly rushing to get him a glass of water. His hands holding the glass shake, his heart pounds in his ears and throat, his mind light headed as he tries to process his first encounter with Prompto since he’d mysteriously run away without any other trace, word, or sign of life nearly three months ago.

“I-I ---- _I can explain_ ,” he instantly begins, looking up at the prince as he returns with the glass, Prompto cupping it and taking a hearty gulp. But before he can do so, Noctis takes it out of his hands and sets it upon the table, running a hand across Prompto’s dirt-spattered cheek before he can stop himself, his bright blue eyes unmuddied by the clear anguish and filth he had endured over the course of the last week.

The longer he looks upon his best friend, Noctis finds himself more and more desperate to save the explanations for later. His leather couch squelches under Noctis’ shifting body as he uses a thumb to brush caked earth from Prompto’s color drained lips, carelessly ignoring the blonde’s obviously weak state before he forcefully presses their lips together, the exhausted Prompto pressing back and whimpering into Noctis’ aggressive hello.

Another knock on the door raps almost in sync to the rapping sounds of their deep, fast kisses. Noctis pants in Prompto’s ear as he pulls the blonde on top of him, furiously grateful Prompto too, is able to spare him his spoken reasons. The front door swings open regardless, Ignis looking down as he wipes his black dress shoes against the scratchy, brown welcome mat and slipping out of them couthly.

“Iggy --- not now, dude!” Noctis pleads in between kisses he plants along Prompto’s neck and collarbone.

“We haven’t got the time, Noct, you’ve got to get up,” the insists firmly, folding his arms, his eyes fixed purposefully on Noctis, who is almost completely hidden underneath Prompto’s lithe, moaning frame.

“Come on, Noct! Noct, Noct, _NOCT!!!!!!_ ”

Noctis startles himself awake, the deafening shouts of Ignis in his dream blending seamlessly with those of the Ignis who shakes him awake in reality. Noctis jumps reflexively, choking on his own winded inhalations. His naked legs kick wildly before he tumbles off the couch and onto the floor with a hard thud against his kneecaps.

Ignis, who holds Noctis’ delicate, hissing massaging of his leg for enough of a wakeup call, walks quietly into the kitchen. The prince clenches his eyes shut as the pulses ease into rhythmic twinges. The pain mixes with the headache that blurs his vision, a product of being abruptly woken up in the middle of the REM sleep process. The sloppy heat stroke and unbalancing neck and head pain leave him nauseated. He irritably hoists himself off his own floor, gaining a slight sense of orientation as he swings his tired limbs indifferently, his eyes squinted in quiet fury.

He curses silently under his breath, for the abrupt interruption of his dream marked his fifth Prompto related dream in three days. He nearly smashes his eyeballs into the back of his skull, he rubs them so harshly in the wistful, somewhat earnest attempt to make the Prompto of his dreams reappear before him once more.

“ _Good lord_ , would you get decent, Your Highness?!” Ignis interrupts, shielding his eyes, scrambling to back away after imposing on his subordinate’s modesty. Noctis tisks and rolls his eyes as he follows Ignis’ disgusted line of sight, realizing with slight embarrassment that in reality he is as naked apart from his boxers as he was in his dream, albeit with the unmistakable print of his semi hardness causing a rise in the gentle fabric.

“If I’m going to be catching you in the middle of such activities, answer my bloody texts and spare me the trip or trauma  ---“

“Dude, I just fucking woke up, okay? I don’t even know how long I’ve been out for…” Noctis rubs his head, bluntly readjusting his underwear to conceal his business. “I wasn’t even _doin’_ anything like that…” he adds quickly, picking up one of many thoughtlessly discarded shirts off the floor and pulling it over his head. His sweat-soaked brow and hairline threaten to freeze in the harshly blowing breeze of the now functioning air conditioning.

“Guess it’s fixed…” Ignis nods, Noctis tilting his head back passionately.

 _“Thank the Gods…”_ Noctis sighs. “… _plus_ like, why would I do that if I was on the phone with you?!” Noctis disgustedly adds in defense of an argument he grows to realize Ignis had temporarily forgotten, the other man preoccupied instead by the filthy living room.

“I’m sorry… _what_ was that?” Ignis dreamily questions, plucking a pair of briefs and a candy wrapper from off the shade of a lamp.

“I’m sayin, why would I have my hands down my pants while on the phone with _you_?!” Noctis repeats in language much more direct, folding his arms and ignoring the plentiful piles of clothes and trash that infest the once spotless apartment.

“To address your _beginning_ point, I’ll have you know I am _incredibly_ titillating, thank you very much,” Ignis snaps, dramatically tip toeing over a heaping, waist high mound of royal briefing papers, stained a light brown with long spilled soda. “Secondly, we haven’t phoned one another since yesterday, hence my coming over. You’ve been ignoring my calls all day, and your lack of response had me quite worried you’d succumbed to drastic measures regarding the broken AC after all, thus I thought to drop by…”

“But, we were…I mean… _okay_ …” Noctis cryptically argues, mindlessly stringing loose thoughts together. The phone conversation he’d shared with Ignis in his dream had seemed so realistic, and not at all too strayed from the course to be unbelievable.

“…Noct, are these really the four hundred Lucian pans I spent nearly half my wages on, charred and neglected in the kitchen?!” Ignis scolds as he wanders to the overflowing, double sided sink. He lifts a heavy skillet from underneath the weight of nearly Noctis’ whole dirty, discarded dishware cabinet, the other plates and pots clanging together in a deafening clanging of metal and porcelain.

“Don’t get me the expensive ones next time, then…” Noctis argues, kicking his feet moodily as he sulks back into the living room in an attempt to avoid a lecture.

“What the ever loving hell were you even trying to _make_?” Ignis disbelievingly questions, bringing the pot to his nose and turning his head in disgust.

“Stir fry…”

Ignis can barely stop the barking laugh from breaching his dutifully closed mouth, his teeth drawing blood, they clamp down on his lips so hard.

“I’ll clean them, Noct…” Ignis breathlessly informs him, winded from attempting not to laugh. The single, coagulated cluster of coal black egg noodles rests atop an overflowing and rotten bag of garbage that sits deflated in the silver can. He tosses a bag of cleaning supplies he brought with him from the castle onto the scummy countertop. Not a single foot of the worktop itself is exposed or clean, Ignis recoiling in horror at the clutter of trash and dirty bowls that nearly cause him to retch at the sight of the dried food encrusted on the plates like once edible jewels.

“But you _are_ going to help me --- get a rubbish bag and start collecting what you can --- _now_!”

 _“OKAY!”_ Noctis whinily agrees, stomping his way back to the kitchen. He snatches the black bag from a smiling Ignis’ hands, slamming trash into the satchel, as if personally affronted that Ignis would dare insinuate the prince should clean his own apartment.

“Your bachelor life ends in two weeks, Noct --- you are to be eighteen and married ---“

“Okay, I get it,” Noctis cuts him off sourly, throwing a pouting look over his shoulder as he aggressively sweeps a collection of dust bunnies into a dust pan.

“Do you _really_?” Ignis haughtily questions, Noctis straightening up, almost petrified in introspective silence. It would be the greatest lie ever told before The Six if Noctis were to answer in the affirmative. His father had not made a public appearance since June, two months ago. His wrinkles circumvent his eyes like fleshy snakes, as if penciled in with thinly filed, fine nails.

His lips were dry and crusted at the corners, every breath and syllable he privately took as of late with Noctis leaving their foamy marks upon his colorless lips. His hair is still styled by his personal staff, though Noctis could only take sickening notice of the growing number of wily split ends atop his father’s head. His clothes are fitted, regal, and handsome, though the way his body shook with even the slightest and most casual of motions haunted the thoughts and dreams of the son. His hazel eyes were sometimes cloudy with unlistening uncertainty, and Noctis could feel his father’s attention slipping when they’d have their weekly meeting; the prince had practiced saving his sobs and tears for when he’d return to his apartment after a car ride in silence with Ignis.

He does not get the way his body freezes and chokes every time Ignis or another member of his father’s cabinet mentions specifics of Noctis’ transition team, the way he loses feeling in his fingers and his throat closes up whenever they question his upcoming first week as King in a month’s time.

Luna, who had sought refuge in Altissa since July, had kept her promise to maintain near daily contact with Noctis via Umbra throughout the summer, though Noctis still does not understand how he is to balance their reception, their marriage, and their partnership without incurring assured aggression from the Niflheim Empire. The princess would have to leave Accordo eventually. He is not sure how he would move her to the Citadel as his wife and queen, how he would raise and rear their children, how he would be a husband and lover worthy of the first lady of Lucis…

Where his body shivers at the thought of courting her, where he finds himself wanting to be a better man (and failing, he realizes, as Ignis disgustingly pulls a sock permanently crusted shut with ejaculate from underneath the dishwasher, screaming loudly as he drops it. He points fiercely to Noctis, who stomps over to throw it away, his cheeks red from embarrassment) for such a stunning woman, both romantically and physically, where his mind grows airy and dreamy over the thought of running his hands along the deep curves of her waist, wanting to protect her as a lover, friend, and king, he finds his desires ultimately stem from an underlying place of duty, the further down within himself he explores his motivations.

Many were the times in which Noctis had practiced saying “I love you, Luna…” to the mirror, minding his eyes and tensed jaw, as well as his equally stiff body. He could not say the words came from a place of true love, no matter how naturally they flowed from his lips; certainly from deep seated friendship, unwavering brotherly affection, even pure, sexual attraction --- but not from unabashed, passionate, romantic love.

The one time he’d felt himself utter the words, as softly and almost as desperately as he would to the love of his life, had been immediately after waking from a particularly cruel dream in which Prompto slept by his side after showing up at his apartment, much like his dream from earlier. The shock had left Noctis unable to utter the words for nearly a month, growing both ashamed and furious over the thought of the very blonde who had abandoned him without so much as a single word.

He certainly could not say he could comprehend where he stood with Prompto, the man he would have once called his best friend, the man he loves --- despite his constant, attempted reassurance of the opposite. Noctis’ efforts to call the young man had been met with complete silence. Between his sullen, withdrawn depression as a result of the lack of contact with Prompto, and his seemingly never ending political obligations back at the castle in preparation for his birthday, crowning, _and_ marriage, he had been unable to drop by the townhome of his parents in order to gain more context regarding his friend’s determined silence.

Although they had written him a kind letter at the beginning of the summer following Prompto’s first week at Lestallum ( _Your Majesty, we cannot thank you enough for you, Ignis’ and Gladiolus’ role in our son’s blossoming into a beautiful man. He has not reached out to us, as his first week has most likely been very busy, but we assume he is doing well, and hope he will be home again for winter solstice_ ), he’d taken Ignis’ (imperative and heavily enforced) advice of not harassing them for information.

His mind replayed the same twenty second loop of their final moments together before his abrupt and unexplained departure for nearly the entire summer. He sometimes clenched the hand that held Prompto’s on the way to the Citadel, both of them having relied on the other to calm one another’s worries. The nerve wracking memories of that early June day were made clear by Noctis’ memory of their final conversation, in which the prince had just barely kissed him upon the lips.

 _What had it all meant?_ Such was the million dollar question Noctis had sometimes spoken aloud in an attempt to rationalize and answer. His own feelings had been confusing to him since they’d began to surface in his mind and dominate his thoughts in early March. It had all mingled together like a repulsive, emotional slush, swirling around in his gut and brain and heart.

_“It was all just practice --- practice for Luna, he was looking out for me, Prom just didn’t want me to be a kissless virgin who scared the future queen away --- you miss him because he was the only person in the world to see you as Noctis and not as Your Majesty, you miss him because no one else knows you the way he does, and no one else has ever let you close enough to them to get to know him the way you have. You’re heartbroken because where you spent your whole life alone, he refused to let you do so. You miss his smile and laugh, because they’re the only ones in the world that aren’t fake. You miss everything about him, because out of all that shit in your room in the Citadel, the whole entire wing that always blew him away, he’s all you’ve ever had,“_

_“Prompto is in love with you, you bloody fuckin’ idiot,”_ the memory of Ignis’ voice had unkindly responded whenever Noctis’ own mental monologue attempted to subvert his attempt to gain his mental bearings. Yet there were whole evenings where Noctis would sit quietly curled on his couch, flipping through the red notebook, studying each picture his best friend had taken to memorialize their companionship. He flipped and flipped, sometimes until his fingers were cut in a thousand tiny places by the thick, light brown stationary, to prove that it _happened_ , and that Prompto would not have left Noctis such a parting gift had he wished that it had _not_. His eyes would follow the narrow loops of the _‘I love you’_ on the back corner until they sent him twirling into his own emotional prison.

The Prince was known by all his staff and servants as a lazy and indifferent young man, but the state and smell of his apartment is indicative of an underlying depression that Ignis inwardly diagnoses as assuredly stemming from the very stressful roadblocks Noctis currently mulls over in his brain.

“…No,” Noctis sighs, his voice nearly soundless. He assists Ignis in lifting and tying the trash bag that threatens to spill across the unmopped floor as it bulges sickeningly in the middle. “You know Iris and Talcott were hoping to have a slumber party over here at some point, there is no way they could ever come anywhere near this sty,”

“I mean, it’s not like I can’t clean it up before they get here…” Noctis rolls his eyes; the realization as he wakes further and further from his interrupted nap that Prompto had not actually shown up at his door settling it.

“Good thing I’m here to do it myself…” Ignis sassily retorts, taking a pause in throwing out a rotten head of lettuce whose smell pungently festers in the confines of the refrigerator.

_Noct is in worse shape than I thought, Gladio. I haven’t been by here in nearly two weeks, and it shows. I encountered one of his socks you warned me about. I suppose you were right about merely leaving those on the floor where they lie. He must have been good about putting them away all those years ago. The cooling company fixed the broken AC throughout the complex, but I imagine it won’t inspire Noct any more than anything else is. He’s clearly been neglecting his briefings as well._

“Hey, uh, Iggy…did you, um --- happen to notice if there was any mail in my box downstairs?” Noctis stumbles over his own words as he hoists a brimmingly full laundry hamper into the living room.

“I’m afraid not…” Ignis contemplatively answers, going to place his phone down upon the counter top, but quickly retracting the motion as he catches sight of dried mustard on the granite surface, instead placing it in his pocket. “Are you expecting something?”

“I dunno, maybe just some sign from  --- _you know_ \--- a sign that he’s still alive…” Noctis’ anger instantly flares up as he thinks of the freckled man, unable to even speak his name. He angrily stuffs yet more stray clothes about the living room into the hamper, each article another punch to the blonde’s imaginary face.

“I’m sorry, Noct…” Ignis sighs. “I tried sending him a text earlier this week asking how classes were going,”

“No answer?” Noctis exhaustedly presumes, Ignis raising his arms helplessly before shaking his head.

“You musn’t let your troubles with Prompto continue to cause you the anguish it does...”

“Yeah, who cares that my best friend just _up and disappeared_ without any contact to his friends or family for six weeks, right?” Noctis sarcastically tisks, Ignis rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.

“Now, Noctis, you know good and well that is not what I meant by that ---“

“So then what _do_ you mean?!” Noctis snarls, turning around swiftly and glaring at his advisor, who stands stock still, his expression blank, his eyes stationary behind his boxy black glasses.

“I --- I mean ---“ Ignis stammers, bringing his hand to slam against the counter in irritation. He tries to find words sensitive enough, for he is not so heartless that he lacks an understanding of Noctis’ mourning --- Ignis and Gladio had come to mourn Prompto’s absence in their own ways. It was not as if Ignis was as emotionally clueless as his prince.

“Your entire countertop is covered in forgotten Cup Noodle pots with _moldy fuzz_ growing atop the old broth, you’ve left your trash so _stagnant_!” Ignis gestures to the filthy cups, gagging as Noctis inconsequentially takes a handful of them and pours them down the garbage disposal. The rotten smell nearly causes the older of the two of them to lose the contents of his stomach.

“You’ve _clearly_ not done laundry in days, you’ve _certainly_ not engaged with the briefing papers I’ve been sending you every other week!” he continues to scold, Noctis moodily pushing a mop across the hardwood floor. “You’ve only complained about Prompto, and haven’t once inquired about your _father_ , or _Luna_ \---“

“Dude, I saw dad on Saturday and I talked to Luna two days ago in the notebook, I haven’t talked to Prompto in _twelve weeks_ \---“ Noctis stops mopping to stand up and argue, instantly getting drowned out by Ignis’ continued rant.

“And how many _more_ weeks ago were you supposed to look at those briefing papers?!” Ignis knows he has won, for Noctis rolls his eyes and continues mopping once more. “That forgotten pile right there is only a _draft_ of the proposal that you are going to have to spearhead when it comes to telling Galahd that we are exchanging their eventually promised sovereignty for continued peace with Niflheim!”

“Maybe I could fucking concentrate on something else if you’d just let me _reach out_ to him --- !”

“He’s ignored your texts and he hasn’t written you back, your attempts to reach out are _clearly_ undesired!” Ignis bluntly reminds the young man; Noctis had always resented the way Ignis spared no delicate emotion when keeping him so involuntarily grounded.

Noctis acknowledges Ignis’ valid points by lifting up the dozens of frozen dinner boxes discarded in the living room in an attempt to locate the binder the papers were once contained in.

“We’re _worried_ about you, Noctis. I am, Gladio is, your _father_ is worried about you --- I understand you miss Prompto and worry for him, but you ought to be ashamed of yourself for making your father concern himself with your wellbeing when it him you should be concerned about ---“

 _“And you don’t think I give a damn about my father?!”_ Ignis holds up his hands warningly at Noctis’ furious accusation, the black haired man slowly striding toward his advisor’s lanky frame, fist clenched ---

“Hitting me will make none of this go away, Noctis,” he warns evenly, thankful his nervousness at Noctis’ aggression only accelerates his heart rate, as opposed to disrupting the stoic air he maintains on the surface. He studies the prince’s heavy breathing, his trembling body, knowing that Noctis’ desire to shatter his glasses upon the bridge of his nose had not yet completely subsided.

“You cannot stand around and sulk about that damn boy, you need to live your life for the people that need you!”

 _“DON’T YOU THINK I FUCKING KNOW THAT?!”_ Noctis yells so loudly Ignis visibly jumps. He cannot mistake Noctis’ shaking, sobbing frame for anything other than his own personal victory in his emotional assault of the prince. He allows Noctis a few moments of open, silent crying, the prince so overwhelmed with the many emotions he’d left unexpressed and unsaid. The loneliness of his apartment was both desired and resented; life without Prompto mimics the immeasurable days of anti-social normalcy he’d come to know so well. Yet the silence only emphasized the emptiness left behind by the smiles and soft touches, the knees held close against slender bodies by carefully wrapped arms. Sometimes Noctis would catch flashes of blue eyes in public --- a very rarely seen eye color within the Kingdom of Lucis --- yet they were never as deep or dark in color as those of his friend.

He did not want to _sulk_ , as Ignis had so insensitively summarized his pain. To know that his father had gotten wind of his long-lived emotional breakdown throughout the course of the summer is as disheartening to the prince has Ignis tries to impart.

“And what about the people _I_ need?!” Noctis does not care how selfish he sounds, his narrow eyed fury silently demanding an answer from the advisor. “Nobody’s telling my dad not to --- to ---“ Noctis pauses, closing his eyes and settling his shallow breathing, tears rolling defiantly from his tightly clenched eyes. “Nobody’s keeping Luna safe, nobody’s bringing _him_ back ---“

Ignis looks at the silently crying young man sympathetically, silent nonetheless.

“But it’s all about _me_ and what _I’m_ doing wrong, right?!”

“Such is the fate of the future King, Your Highness…I’m sorry Prompto has still not reached out to you, Noctis. I truly am. Gladio and I miss him terribly as well, but you cannot regress the way you have, Noctis, this is unacceptable,” he points to a cluster of fruit flies upon a shriveled, forgotten banana. “I raised you better than this…”

Noctis shudders at the advisor’s last statement. Ignis had been a puzzling amalgamation of _father, tutor, brother, and friend_. He cannot help but, in all of his present, helpless anger, appreciate and admire the man, who was only three years his senior, for his ability to r _aise_ him indeed.

“Do not think I come here to mock you at your weakest point and throw stones upon your rickety menagerie of a house; understand that I know better than anyone in all of Eos how it feels to have your life stripped away from you for the good of others,”

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean that I have and will continue to sacrifice my own will and desire for _you_ , Noctis, for seeing to your successful ascension to the Lucian throne. Understand that I have let go countless of unspeakable loves and dreams and opportunities, merely because you and your needs have come first. Yet I have never resented you, and I never will. I will always guide and scold as an equal, not as the ultimate judge,”

“I guess I never really considered that before…” Noctis shamefully admits. “I’m sorry…”

“Your apology is highly appreciated, Noct, but ultimately useless for us both, sadly,” Ignis sympathetically responds.

 _“So then what am I supposed to do?!”_ Noctis pleads, sniffing loudly before letting another sob involuntarily escape from his lips. “I’m _so_ _scared_ , Ignis…”

“You’re one hundred percent justified in your fear, Your Highness…” Ignis throws a pile of unfolded, clean laundry to the floor to make room for himself next to Noctis on the couch, bringing a comforting arm around his shoulder.

“I cannot help but think it was the very same emotion that pushed Prompto away ---“

 _“Can we not?! You know, talk about him?!”_ Noctis snaps, Ignis swallowing before continuing, changing gears away from the blonde completely. “We are all afraid, Noctis…even Gladio…”

“If _he’s_ afraid, then that should at least get you to see I’m not makin’ it up…”

 “We know you’re not, Your Highness, but you cannot let your fear render you immobile. You must find your _strength_ , Noctis…”

“I just wish I _had_ the strength, Ignis…”

“What do you mean?”

“The strength to --- to --- to protect my father, protect my people, protect Luna, protect --- _protect Prompto_ …”

“You _do_ have that strength, Noctis…it is the strength to _endure_ such strength, that I wish you…”

“Then I wish I could force him to _talk_ to me, _look_ at me, _listen_ to me, and --- and just ---“

“And just _what_ , Noctis?”

_‘Tell him how I don’t know what this is I feel, but I’ve never felt it before, and how I don’t care if duty puts me in my own tomb next week, that I want to spend that week with him.’_

“Let me tell him everything…” Noctis concedes, curling into the couch. Tell him of the confusion. The passion. The rawness. The pulling hurt of his absence. Loyalty and emotion. Desire and obligation and the deception thereof, the wish to hold his hands and thank him until his voice was no more than an itchy croak. To hold his hands and find the words to express this feeling he _knows_ he has that is much, _much_ more than just brotherhood or _friendship_. Everything indeed.

The two men sit in silence for a while, Noctis registering the click of the air conditioning as it turns on with an inward jolt at the small victory of the now fixed ventilation system.

“…Your father expects you at the Citadel tomorrow bright and early,“ Ignis solemnly presses forward with the conversation, grateful to see Noctis rises and continues to straighten up his apartment, where Ignis still sits upon the couch. “The two of you are getting your coronation portrait painted,”

“I know…” Noctis whispers, spilling nearly half a sink’s worth of water onto the ground as he starts on his dishes.

“You are also to sit down with him and make plans for your coronation ceremony and your eventual wedding, which is looking to take place in Altissa. You and your father are also going to begin discussions with the delegation from Galahd, to inform them of their, er, _new governing territory_ …”

“Gee, my first move as King of Lucis in three weeks is gonna be telling a state that already resents us for claiming sovereignty over them they’re being given to the Niffs…”

“I must admit, you have been dealt a _very_ shit hand,” Ignis concedes, looking over his shoulder at the half-heartedly cleaning prince.

“But you must play your cards regardless, for that is what a king does,” Ignis gravely offers the prince as counsel. “He presses ever forward.”

* * *

 

Prompto groans as his skin peels with a torturous slowness from the back of the leather seat, glistening slickly with his salty sweat. He is covered in filth, grime, and dirt, having spent nearly sixteen hours outdoors. The sun above had been white hot and unsheathed. The sweat on his skin nearly boils, even in the shadow of the evening. He was ashamed to say he’d never considered the idea of culture shock. His ultimate defense, however, is ultimately that he had never had much in terms of privilege to be shocked _from_ when it came to going without.

The differences between the two lands are stark and brilliant. The entire world felt so open to Propmto, compared to the cramped, isolated metropolis of Insomnia. Beyond the comparatively small settlement, sprawling mountains and lush, rainy forests reign endlessly in all directions. Only a single, paved road connects the sparsely populated villages that garnish the wilderness. He loves the way everything in Lestallum is candid and intimate as a result.

The few buildings within the city limits are lavishly painted, peacocking vibrant hues upon their old, cool, stone and wood walls. Where much of Insomnia’s business was conducted within the dark, black skyscrapers, Prompto had found the open markets, crowded, cobblestone streets, and lack of personal boundaries to be almost akin to living permanently in one of his Spring Festivals.

He loved the permanent tans, the cool drinks and hot, barbequed food available on every corner. He loved the way new foods instantly seared his tongue, coated in spices that leave his sinuses running and his eyes burning, his thumb permanently stained brown and red. He loved the smell of spicy herbs and fragrant garnishments as they mingled in the dry breeze that would wrap around the narrow alley ways. He loved the clean wind, fresh and uncongested, as opposed to that of the Insomnian emissions of millions of vehicles within a single municipal area.

He loved the sight of the scantily clad women who lined the streets, unable to wear too many layers due to the oppressive heat. He loved to crane his head and watch them as they pass, only gaining the courage to ask for a name or number once she is as physically far away as his own chances of actually gaining her information. While the people are friendly, inquisitive, and inviting, Prompto allows himself the silence of the first few months in his new home to merely soak it all in, the differences in dialect, culture, and climate draining him of all his energy. His attempt to blend in conspicuously is often thwarted by the occasional ogling by locals regarding his fair skin and strange way of dress, outing him as a foreign student from the Walled Kingdom.

Life outside of said wall had its negative reasons to open one’s eyes: he had always heard that other nations were not as prosperous as Lucis due to the Caelum possession of divinity via the Crystal.  Prompto, who had (as far as he had once assumed) never known life outside of the Lucian border, had never truly understood the extent of which this rang true.

Cars beyond Lucis, of which there were very few in comparison, are clunky, primitive and dated. Where the flashy cars of even the average Insomnian family are sleek and waxed, the cars of Lestallum are long, rusty, and almost indicative of another era entirely. Their engines constantly secrete a stench of diesel that leaves Prompto light heated and wanting for deep breaths, yet always longing for more of the oily smell. The lack of air conditioning --- a hefty crime in such a blisteringly hot climate --- made the bus rides throughout Lestallum and the surrounding landscape nearly unbearable, were it not for the smell of the leaking gasoline from the automobiles along the road. Where the people live without air conditioning, the busses themselves do not have windows, the city so humid that the lack of thembrought relief, even on the rainiest of days.

Perhaps the greatest difference of all is the lack of protection from the Daemons --- incomprehensibly powerful, ferocious creatures that sprouted from darkness, infesting all unlit, unpopulated spaces and rendering them intraversable. The power of the wall had kept Lucis Daemon free at the cost of the King’s life, a reality Prompto hates facing, not only because of the danger such evil presents, but because of the constant reminder of those he’d left behind in Insomnia. His apartment building rests atop the highest hill of Lestallum. The blonde had spent every night for the first three weeks in the city gazing out from his window with his head upon the sil, staring at the terrifying entities that punctuated the darkness beyond Lestallum’s light reach, the flames of their swords or their own chilling bodies foreboding markers of certain doom along the landscape of Eos.

His silence had been highly educational; he’d learned of mercenaries called Hunters, who seemed little perturbed by the prophetic regulation that only the King of Lucis could banish Daemons. The self-proclaimed Hunters established outposts all across Eos, swearing themselves to the safety of the people, for not all lands could be blessed with self-sacrificial monarchs.

Lestallum itself was Daemon free, if only for the power plant, as it generated just enough light to keep them at bay. He’d also heard talk of Havens, patches of land in which Oracles of the past performed magical rites that granted protection from Daemons, at the cost of the health of the Oracle herself. He’d come to recognize such locations via the wispy smoke in the distance, their light blue stream swirling into the quagmire of stars above. Prompto’s fear had quickly mixed with highly morbid curiosity.  He finds it eerily unsettling to see, first-hand, the creatures that rendered the rest of the world scared and weak, that left the Caelums as the only saviors of Eos.

His curiosity dissipates every time a tragic weekly story plasters the front page of the newspaper (there were no televisions beyond the wall, Prompto was shocked to learn, only radios. Only the truly wealthy possessed smart phones, his own drawing much attention whenever he used it on the street) memorializing a missing traveler or family turned up murdered by Daemons.

Placards and promotions sprinkle the walls of buildings and alleyways urging Lestallans to limit night time travel, accompanied by drawings of innocent looking women shielding their children from the blunt, massive blade of an Iron Giant. Warnings disguised as catchy jingles droned on the radio every day at nightfall proclaiming the same advice.

“The Lady Oracle said she’ll get around to blessing the area with another Haven…” An impossibly tan shirtless man lethargically says to another who listens.

Prompto leans his head against the metal siding of the bus, trying to maintain his blank expression, so as to not give away his blatant eavesdropping so easily.

“I heard that Prince of Lucis --- Noxious, Nautilis, Nativus --- somethin’, I heard he’d be christening his coronation with a global pilgrimage around the world together with the Lady Oracle to help keep the Daemon populations down…”

Prompto’s body finds a way to grow cruelly hotter, the blonde turning away from the conversing men. The heat shifts to an icy coldness as his thoughts wander onto the real Prince of Lucis, his body bouncing violently along with those of the other passengers as the rickety bus dips buoyantly into the potholes of the unkempt streets.

He’d felt such sickening lurches in his stomach all day, not one of them stemming from heat stroke or dehydration; the cover of the _Lestallum Light_ features a black and white picture of Noctis bedecked in a raiment of a black and gold cloak and suit, the ornate, pointed crown of the Lucian King rested atop his meticulously styled hair. His father, Regis, stands by his side, his eyes closed in what those who did not personally know the family would assume to be silent strength, but Prompto intimately knows to be a weariness that he reluctantly relinquishes upon his only, most beloved son.

The colorless photo does not dampen the clearness of Noctis’ grey eyes. The very ones Prompto deliberately avoids by turning away quickly from the newspapers upon the stands and in the hands of their readers, lest he undoes his near thirteen-week long silence toward the prince. Every glance he stole toward the handsome, regal King-to-be was another reminder that Prompto would never stop loving him.

“Yeah right, when’s the last time those conceited pieces of shit ever did anything for anyone beyond the wall? That King Regis has been bent over backwards since day one of his reign to appease those Niffs, and I bet his pretty boy twink son ain’t no different ---“

Prompto cannot be any happier his stop approaches. He violently lurches as the bus driver slams on his brakes, Prompto keeping his eyes bravely forward so as to avoid eye contact with the handful of handsome Noctis’ who peer at him from the magazines.

“Who needs Kings when we have Hunters of our own --- _watch where yer goin’_!” the man sneers at Prompto, the blonde unaccustomed to the wild physics of Lestallum and crashing into the conversing men as the bus gives another unexpected roll forward.

“S-sorry –“ he shyly offers, nodding and clutching his camera to his chest as the bus lets him off at the quiet, secluded intersection of two dusty roads atop the highest point of Lestallum. He shakes his head softly, the adrenaline of the altercation distracting his aching, weak muscles as he takes on the slope toward his apartment building at the very top. The day had ultimately been a waste. Prompto had taken the earliest bus toward a set of caves an hour away from Lestallum, trekking through muggy forest and muddy marshes, only to approach the cave’s entrance to read a sign boasting _Danger! Daemon Activity Within!_

The ride back had somehow managed to seem longer than the way there. He’d still managed to capture photos of various creatures and floral confections encountered along the way, Prompto flipping through the gallery of consolation prizes. It reminded him a lot of life before Noctis --- quiet, alone, unnoticed, with only his photography to prove his mark on the world, the photos themselves devoid of people, and featuring the voiceless instead.

His pointed lack of communication had only partially stemmed from his desire to quit the Caelums cold turkey. Cellphone chargers are a highly expensive commodity beyond the wall, he’d come to find, thus his phone had sat dead in his apartment for weeks, dude to having no money in his budget for the cord. The days were also short and overwhelming, the complete newness of his life giving Prompto time to wake up, learn more about Lestallum, and sleep. School proper would not start for another two weeks yet, thus leaving the blonde with more time to research the Niflheim Magitek Infantry in the antiquated, dusty library, whose only collection of materials on the subject are sorely lacking.

His nightmares prevent him from gaining any consecutive hours of meaningful rest, the memory of the Chancellor and his cruel words leaving Prompto to navigate the world in an uncertain and fearful daze. His research had confirmed that there was indeed a Magitek Infantry division, and that it was this very division that accounted for the majority of the Empire’s power and influence over the world.

Many of the military secrets were not openly displayed in volumes: certain gaps pepper Prompto’s notebook, which he’d begun to scrawl in to notate his discoveries regarding the program. While he certainly shared the same barcode on his wrist – that much he _can_ conclude – all of his research had pointed to the soldiers being entirely automated; Prompto knew himself to not be a _robot_. He felt, slept, breathed, and ate, and a robot would have _long_ overheated in Lestallum, he morbidly chuckles to himself. Where Ardyn had caught on to his near fixation with the prince of Lucis, the blonde knew it within himself that his feelings for the prince are indeed those of romantic, unconditional love. Whether they stem from broken wiring or organic, human affection is irrelevant; Prompto knows they are never-ending, and incompatible.

“What does it mean…?” he tearfully questions, staring down at the symbol in desperate disgust, the porchlight above his head illuminating him like a mocking spotlight as he stands upon his cramped, concrete doorstep. He disturbingly notes the way the ink is uninterrupted by the scars that now mar the young man’s wrist, for he had attempted to gouge the symbol with a knife in a fit of emotional helplessness upon arriving in Lestallum the first night.

“It means he really is doing way better without me…” Prompto sighs, bending down to confront the very face he’d been avoiding since that morning; a rolled up copy of the current issue of The Star sits upon his doorstep. He crushes it in his grip as he turns a key and pushes open his dirty, white, wooden door, extending a free hand to flip on a light switch. The apartment is clean, cool, and dry, the walls and floors made out of stone, a wooden ceiling fan above spinning air about the studio. He closes his door, bolting it shut with the chain that dangles next to it.

His kitchen table is cluttered by various rented books from the library, titles of _Magitek Warfare: Designs, Purposes, and Schematics_ and _A Brief History of the Magitek Infantry Program_ catching his eye. His small, twin sized bed is made, a thin, wispy sheet all he can bear in the heat.

The grey walls are made homey by the pictures of wildlife and landscapes he plasters over top them. His clothes are organized upon the hangers in his small closet. All in all, it would be a very comfortable setup, were the blonde at all comfortable with himself. Many editions of the Lestallum Star sit crumbled and mutilated in his recycling bin, for they bore pictures of the Chancellor and Emperor of Niflheim, their devious, grinning faces striking anxiety and fear within Prompto that left him unsettled for hours.

“Who _are_ you, Prompto?” the blonde asks himself quietly as he stares longingly at the low quality picture of Noctis and his father, wishing more than anything that he could be by his side, at his apartment in Insomnia, with Ignis and Gladio, his wonderful parents; they all deserved so much more than a desperately smitten, wreck of an abomination.

“If you are who he says you are, then why does his picture make you _miss_ him, instead of bloodthirsty?” he agonizes, his uncertainty in his own question dredging a welling sense of fear in his stomach.

_“It doesn’t matter who ‘you’ are…he can never love ‘you’ regardless…”_

Prompto chuckles sadly, throwing the day’s issue too, into the recycling bin; he couldn’t forget the sound of Ignis’ scolding voice, even if he tried.

“I should get the charger…call mom and dad…” he mutters to himself, finding a glimpse of solace in his utterance. Robots do not get adopted. Robots do not have mothers and fathers.

* * *

 

A wetness trickles down the blonde’s face, instantly startling him awake. He brushes blonde locks out of his eyes, jolting upward as the spinning room reorients itself, the small dashes of the red digital clock reading 3:49. He brings a hand to drag across his still damp face, flicking away remnants of what must have been sweat drenching his body. The small droplets flick onto the floor, creating what is most likely the largest pool of liquid in the entire, arid city.

He pushes open the blue, wooden shutters blocking out the bright lights of the city below. He sighs as hot air instantly rushes to fill his home, watching Bombs bob aflame upon the single, paved road out of the city in the distance.

He watches the scene quietly, the unnerving sight of an Arachne clawing her way to join them inspiring Prompto to go back to sleep. He reaches out to close the shutters once more, shivering at the thought of sharing such a beautiful world with such horrid creatures.

“Hopefully there are no obituaries in the papers tomorrow…” he sighs to himself, turning toward his bed and clasping his hands over his mouth to cover his loud, sudden scream; Umbra sits upon his bed, calmly wagging his tail back and forth.

“Umbra!” Prompto exclaims, inspired awake by a sudden surge of energy. He sprints to his bed, the rectangle barely having the room upon it to host both the dog and Prompto himself. He makes room for them by shifting awkwardly against the wall, his hand stroking the dog he cannot help but smile down at.

“I haven’t seen you in _forever_ , boy…this place is _way_ too hot with a coat like yours…” he notes, reaching over to hit the button on an old, white, dusty box fan the previous tenant had left behind. “Better than nothin’ I guess…” he chuckles, for the fan only succeeds in moving the air around, instead of cooling it.

He continues his affectionate petting of Umbra, frowning slightly nonetheless; he is glad that Luna is safe, as implied by Umbra’s ability to visit him, but his desire to communicate with anyone relating to Noctis is still nonexistent.

“I’m sorry, boy, you came all this way…” he sadly begins, Umbra licking him upon his cheek, and Prompto cannot help but laugh as he silently deduces that the source of the wetness that awoke him must have been from Umbra as well. “…but I probably shouldn’t be talking to any of them anymore…” he shamefully pulls down on the bandana that covers his tattoo.

“There are a lot of things I thought I knew, but I don’t…”

Umbra merely pants further.

“…and I dunno if me being around Lady Lunafreya or --- or _Noctis_ is really a good choice…”

Umbra does not acknowledge his protests, placing the red notebook in his lap, the pen tied to it with a golden ribbon. He shakes his head as he opens the book, wondering shamefully if Noctis had drawn the connection between Prompto choosing to place his gifts for him in a red book of his own, his eyes welling up with tears as he reads the first letters of Luna’s beautiful, emerald cursive ----

_Hello my dear, sweet Prompto. I hope my tidings find you well._

“Ha…” Prompto scoffs out loud before reading further.

_Please excuse my lack of correspondence with you as of late. I promise my thoughts are often with you and your wellbeing, even if my silence does not show it. How has life been for you in Lestallum?_

“Wow…” he sighs, genuinely touched by her caring message. He picks up the pen, wondering where to even begin.

_Dear Lady Luna, I’m sorry for my own silence. I’ve been going through a lot, and adjusting to life in a new country is difficult on top of that. Life in Lestallum has been okay so far. It’s gorgeous, relaxed, and fun, but also very eye opening. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding._

He punctuates the last sentence quite bluntly, the ink pooling in the slightly large period. He cannot bring himself to finish the sentence with _“to Prince Noctis”,_ the thought alone causing him to tense up and lose his place in writing.

_Thank you so much for your congratulations, Prompto. Were my own circumstances lessened in their burdens, I would not be able to contain my joy at being able to marry such a promising and handsome man. I hope to see you at our wedding as our official photographer._

“I guess you don’t remember, then…” Prompto sniffs, sobbing as he re-reads the sentence, his tears rendering the paper invisible in the small circles upon which they collide against the parchment.

_It would be an honor, Luna, but one I have to decline. I am afraid that my feelings for Noctis are as strong as ever, and it is for the best that I avoid him completely while I try to sort them out._

He guiltily hopes his passive aggressive reminder that he was not as lucky as she shines through his words. He wipes the drippings from his nose with the back of his hand, laughing ironically that the man he loves is set to marry the woman of his dreams. His thoughts wrestle with more dire ideas that, if the Chancellor was to be believed, he had no more of a place near the Oracle than he did the Caelums.

_My heart goes out to you, Prompto, and I completely understand your position. I selfishly hope your will changes. Allow me to digress from such a painful topic, and instead jump head long into another one; your last sentence concerns me. Am I to understand that you have severed contact with Prince Noctis completely?_

_Yes._

Prompto tersely writes, the culimination of his emotions peaking in the simple, three lettered word.

_This knowledge grants me impeccable insight regarding Prince Noctis’ strange behavior as of late. He is understandably nervous, and he has always been rather aggressive and defiant regarding his lineage. Yet even still, my own correspondence with him has been strained, and his father, as well as Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, have expressed deep rooted concerns for the Prince’s mental state since your departure._

_“What…?”_ Prompto gasps, bringing the book closer to his nose and re-reading her paragraph to make sure he’d done so correctly. Her kind way of describing Noctis’ aversion to his duties force him to resist the urge to chuckle despite it all, though the desire washes away instantly as he goes to write.

_Strange behavior?_

_If the experiences of his staff are to be believed, he is blatantly neglecting everything in terms of domestic upkeep.  At meetings, he is described as distraught and somewhat catatonic. Do think back to our first ever message, Prompto. I told you long ago that I feared for Noctis’ ability to meet his fate without your guidance or presence by his side. Only you and the love you offer him have any hope of keeping him on the right path._

_“And isn’t that your fucking job?!”_ Prompto roars, slamming the book shut, his breath rattling through his clenched teeth as he places his head in his hands. Umbra whimpers beside him, a portion of the blonde’s conscience somewhat guilty for having completely forgotten about the dog beside him.

 _“YOU’RE THE ONE MARRYING HIM! NOT ME!”_ he continues to scream at the book that lies innocently shut upon the blanket. _“PICK SOMEBODY ELSE FOR THIS SHIT! YOUR’RE THE ONE WHO’S GONNA BE HIS WIFE, YOU’VE BEEN HIS ORACLE SINCE THE BEGINNING, YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES WITH THE CONNECTION, YOU FUCKING GUIDE HIS ASS!”_ he dramatically finishes, his red, teary eyes making eye contact with those of Noctis’ that peek up through the edge of the recycling bin.

 _“Why does it have to be me?!”_ he pleads, subconsciously coming to an understanding of why Noctis shouts the very same lament, hundreds of miles away.

“I wish you’d never come to me…” Prompto whispers to Umbra, who sadly whimpers and folds his ears back, burying his nose into his paws. It does not take long for him to retract his wish, however, for he runs a tear soaked hand through Umbra’s soft fur, which slicks back under the wet touch.

“Well…you’re fine, but…” he tries to smile, evening his temper and his breathing, though his anger does not subside. He snatches the book and scribbles quickly, not even caring the scrawl he’d worked hard to make as neat as those of royals slants in awkward, uneven directions.

_I can’t, Luna. I cannot be around him. He’s just as neglectful when I’m around because he always wants to spend time together. My feelings for him will never go away. It wouldn’t be fair to you. It wouldn’t be fair to him. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be fair to me. You love him, too. You’re going to be his wife. You guide him, because it’s obviously meant to be you._

Even in his anger, he wishes to be polite, and such are the most polite words he can summon to convey his frustration at her mystical insistence that he belongs with Noctis.

“Where’s your proof, Luna?!” Prompto spits at the paper, eyes lingering cruelly on _love_. Ardyn had his proof, Prompto sickly remembers, closing his eyes as he glances down at his tattoo.

_I cannot fully express how disappointing this is to read, Prompto, but I respect that you need your space. You have already done so much for him as is. I hope, not as Oracle or as a Princess or Queen, but as his friend, and as yours, that you both may one day find peace in each other’s companionship once more. If I may then impart one final request upon you, then may it please be that you reach out to him? I suspect that even hearing from you will help immensely. Have a great night, my dear Prompto, and until we meet again._

“I need to get some sleep now, okay?” Prompto kindly whispers to Umbra, nuzzling the panting dog as he turns off his lamp. “I’m sorry, boy…tell Luna I say hello, alright?”

Umbra licks him again, Prompto walking him over to the door and unlatching it, the dog taking off into the night.

“First time he’s ever used a door and not a window…” he scoffs, locking his door once more before lying back down in bed. His mind lingers on just how exactly he is going to reach out to the prince, reluctantly deciding to honor Luna’s last request.

“Why does it all keep coming back to him, even when I’m trying?” he asks his pillow quietly. “If I’m so engineered to track him, why is it that the world moves out of _my_ way to bring us together?” he half wishes his question reaches Luna somehow, the blonde closing his eyes as he realizes, with a faint glimmer of hope, that perhaps Ardyn had been wrong about one thing: the Gods are watching him after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to show what was going on in both of their heads. How was Noctis' portion? Is Prompto's dilemma clear? He is scared of both who or what he is, as well as upset about Noctis?
> 
> Prompto will never be able to "get over" being an MT. It's something that he'll learn to accept, somewhat, in order to rejoin Noctis and crew.
> 
> I wanna make sure I'm writing things clearly, because from my perspective it seems kinda muddy!


	21. Quiet Ships

The air is warm and pleasant, breezy and lazy. Fat, white clouds pass overhead to block the sun in a celestial game of peek-a-boo, but Noctis, who suffers from the fifth, head-splitting headache in a week and a half, makes for a horrible playmate. He rests his entire head in the gap of his arms upon a glass tea table in the garden, the sounds of even birds chirping damning his equilibrium, leaving him nauseated.

The first spell had occurred at his apartment ( _“I was cleaning up the place, then I got a headache and passed out. Maybe I’m allergic to the chemicals in the cleaning supplies,”_ he smugly explained to Gladio over the phone, who boomed with laughter in response before calling him a little shit). The others had occurred at equally random locations and intervals, lasting at least the rest of the day. Respite blessed him every few days in between attacks; today appears to not be one of them.

Noctis and his father had been in negotiation with Galahd for nearly nine hours, the two parties taking a two hour break the prince spends completely miserable in the garden. The futile attempt to cure his migraine with fresh air leaves him with no energy to move to the bedroom to rest.

Gladio frowns, rubbing the young man’s back caringly; for as little patience as he had for Noctis’ self-pitying tendencies, he never enjoyed seeing him in genuine agony. He groans as he looks over his shoulder for Ignis, who’d went to the kitchens to secure the young man a light lunch.

“How’d it start _this_ time?” Gladio breaks their silence, Noctis stirring slightly.

“I was just in the meeting…” is all he can spare, the motion of his jaw triggering a blinding excruciation behind his eyes. His voice is muffled by his arms and the glass, the sun reappearing from behind the clouds illuminating the bluish grey highlights of his hair.

“If you’re just fuckin’ with us to get outta it…” Gladio tries to lightheartedly joke, though his chuckle instantly ceases as he catches a glimpse of the clammy, pale young man who sits up, eyes narrowed shut in pain.

“Alright, if you’re not gonna protest my joke, I _know_ you’re really not feelin’ well. Come on, Your Highness, lemmie bring you to bed…”

“ _Noooo_ …everyone’ll lose their minds if I don’t go back to the negotiation…” the prince slurs, groaning out loud and shielding his eyes from the sun. Where Noctis’ attitude had not improved since the beginning of August, he and Ignis could not help but notice that the prince had done his part in trying to be more present and competent in regards to his royal duties. The mess of his apartment lies temporarily forgotten and replaced by the mess in his bedroom in the Citadel, where he’d been staying for the last week.

“I’m sure they’ll understand just this once, and your father knows this’s been happenin’ to you on and off for the last _two weeks_. Seriously, we’re getting concerned, Noct, I’m gonna talk to Iggy about getting a doctor to the Citadel, alright?” Gladio firmly informs him, the interrogative tone in his voice more of a courtesy than an option for Noctis to protest.

“Yeah, but…if I lie down, it looks like _weakness_ …”

Gladio, who had always been the makeshift and terrifyingly unlicensed physician of the group, silently wrestles with the idea of simply grabbing the prince by the waist and dragging him to bed. “ _Alright_ , if you feel like you can handle it…” he mumbles, turning his head as he hears footsteps upon the arched, marble walkway that connects the two halves of the Citadel separated by the gardens.

“Speak of the Devil…” Gladio mumbles, continuing to rub Noctis’ back absentmindedly as Ignis slips through two pillars. He matches Gladio in a formal black cloak and suit, bringing over a tray containing glasses of water and a stack of papers.

“He’s not doin’ too good, Ig…” Gladio immediately reports overtop Noctis’ groan to the stern looking advisor, who sets the tray down and frowns down at the pallid prince.

“Is it better or _worse_ than your other headaches this past week?” Ignis sharply inquires, Noctis waving a hand horizontally to wordlessly state it is in the middle. “That helps me none,” Ignis shortly replies, the prince’s hand curling against the glass as he expels yet another helpless groan.

“It’s gonna sound weird, you guys, but…” Noctis sits up slightly, the pain laboring his voice. “…I can almost hear _voices_ …a gruff...deep voice…”

“ _Voices_?” Ignis skeptically repeats, an eyebrow raised as he studies the young man quietly. “I suppose I do remember you reporting voices a few days ago, as well…”

“Do you know what they’re saying? Do you recognize them?” Gladio asks a little more helpfully, Noctis barely able to shake his head no before resting it once more.

“I suppose I’ll talk to His Majesty about his symptoms, and cross reference them with a few books in the library…”

“While you’re doin’ that, we need to see to it a doctor gets to him, as soon as possible…” Gladio adds, helping the wincing prince sit up as he shakenly reaches for the cool glass of water upon the tray.

“Naturally…” Ignis nods, Gladio’s thin lips curled nervously underneath his teeth. “But in the meantime, I have something that will interest the prince despite his unfortunate and recurring condition…”

“What’s that, Iggy?” Gladio curiously questions, watching the advisor’s white-gloved hand sort through a pile of mail upon the ivory tray.

“Post from Prompto,”

Noctis moans as his instantaneous, reactive jerk upwards strains every muscle in his body, though he ignores the pain in favor of Ignis’ comment.

“I dunno, Ig…he’s lookin’ kinda bad, I think it can wait ---“

“Let me see it…” Noctis wearily pleads, his skin plagued with a cold, sweaty tinge of sea green.

“You sure, bud?”

Noctis nods once as he extends his hand, Ignis passing him a letter wrapped in dark brown packaging paper. His headache-blurred vision makes the words illegible the first few times he tries to read the scrawl. He rests his elbow against the table, his forehead in his hand as he squints in an attempt to better interpret what he recognizes with an accelerated heartrate to be Prompto’s handwriting.

“There’s no return address or name on it…” Gladio sadly mumbles, Ignis folding his arms as Noctis flips the letter over to see if there are any details to miss on the back.

“Precisely what I noticed, but that handwriting is Prompto’s, the stamps are from Cleigne, and that sort of brown paper is customary to the Lestallum region…”

Noctis’ heart pounds in his throat as his pruney hands carefully slice open the top of the envelope, a small, vintage-styled postcard fluttering onto the glass of the table. He picks it up, the white, blocky cursive of the words _“See you in Lestallum!”_ written in the top left hand corner. Beautiful young brown and black skinned women throw peace signs as they pose seductively upon vintage cars that rest against the aforementioned city’s backdrop, Noctis’ face growing hot as his gazes lingers upon them slightly longer than necessary.

“The card selection is _definitely_ Prompto’s” Ignis adds, breaking Noctis’ trance. He turns the postcard over, unable to misidentify the unique, curly print of his best friend.

_I used to complain about summers in Lucis and how warm they can be. Turns out they can’t compare to Lestallum. But it’s worth it. Turns out a 10 on the spicy scale in Insomnia is Lestallum’s 3. You’d probably spend your first week here on fire, inside and out. Enclosed are some pictures of things around here that are way different than what you’ll see behind the wall. I hope you’re doing well, Noctis. Happy birthday, and congratulations on your upcoming wedding. Tell Iggy and Gladio and your dad I say hi._

“…That’s it?” Noctis whispers, re-reading the message and clenching his teeth, both from shooting pulses of pain from his relentless headache, as well as the attempt to quash his rising emotions. He wordlessly passes the letter on to Gladio and Ignis, Gladio raising his eyebrows and smirking at the women on the cars, whistling licentiously.

“Road trip to Lestallum, boys? I’d say it’s worth the gas if that’s how they make the women beyond the wall…” he chuckles, Noctis’ frown and crestfallen disappointment too great to hear his shield’s comment.

The prince shakes the envelope, small polaroids fanning out over the table displaying sunrises and bustling market places, wild pachyderms on stampede, and curling ivy along tall Sequoias. The perfected lighting and the artistic eye for nature serves as the blonde’s watermark, for even Noctis, who had little eye or appreciation for photography, had seen enough of his friend’s to recognize his signature style.

“That’s an awfully succinct message for a boy as chatty as Prompto, no?” Ignis sassily questions after a few minutes of silence, passing the letter back to Noctis as Gladio flips through the enclosed photos.

“There’s nothing else in there? At all?” Noctis chokes, his eyes darting back upon the letter in his slightly shaking hands.

“I’m afraid not…” Ignis whispers, watching Noctis’ quickly reading eyes.

“It takes mail a bit of time to reach the Crown City, due to the technology gap beyond the wall…”

“I guess Prompto tried to time the letter’s arrival for your birthday, based on the stamps from customs,” Gladio points to blue circles of ink on the corner of the envelope, showing that the letter had left Lestallum nearly two weeks ago --- nearly in sync with his sudden bout of headaches, he cruelly notes.

“He’s three days early…” Ignis drawls, sympathetically plucking the postcard from the hands of Noctis, who nearly crushes it, he tenses so harshly.

“Guess news of the wedding’s postponement hasn’t made its way beyond Lucis,” Gladio muses. Luna’s political asylum had indeed done much to curtail any efforts from either Niflheim’s or Lucis’ front to join the two in marriage. Neither side could stumble in their delicate, diplomatic dance regarding the Oracle without inciting total war. Thus Ardyn and Iedolas had agreed to their tentative betrothal, as well as the acquisition of the territories.

This is not to say that Noctis’ plate is any less full; the negotiations with Galahd had been tense, heated, and fiery, having taken up the better part of July and August. Both he and his father had done much to appease the justified and righteous fury of Galahd, albeit not without the hundreds of hours they’d spent in the diplomatic wing.

Where Noctis had fought his occasional boredom over morbidly wondering who was more likely to declare war --- Galahd or Niflheim, his newfound headaches made for enough entertainment to last until he _was_ to be married to Luna.

“…Well, it’s good to know he’s _alive_ …” Ignis half sarcastically adds.

“This is the first time any of you have heard from him…” Noctis growls, Gladio nodding.

“All attempts at contacting him have been completely unreciprocated. His parents have expressed the same concern, albeit a handful of months ago…”

 _“I --- I don’t get it…”_ Noctis swallows, the blaring sun above too bright for his eyes. Why would he go so long without contacting them, only to do so suddenly and abruptly, so impersonal and so distant? “Why would he _ignore_ us all for the whole summer, then just --- send me _this_ \---“ he angrily gestures toward the photos haphazardly scattered about the table. “He didn’t even sign his _name_ , he --- he barely even said anything at _all_! He didn’t give an address, he didn’t say anything about _why_ he left ---“ Noctis pauses to massage his forehead, still weakened by his migraine. “He calls _you_ Gladio and Iggy, and the fucking _King of Lucis_ dad, but he calls _me_ Noctis, like I’m some kind of weirdo stranger ---“

“…And here I was hoping post from Prompto would _lower_ your blood pressure…” Ignis mumbles, resting his own forehead wearily in the palm of his hands.

“I really don’t need the sass right now…” Noctis whispers, shaking his head disbelievingly. “I don’t get it ---“

“He’s probably reaching out to you to show that he still _cares_ for you, but knows that he needs to continue to keep his distance for whatever personal reason he doesn’t want to share with us,” Gladio explains, Noctis making pouty eye contact with a vibrant picture of a toucan-like creature.

“Hence the lack of return address, so you could not write back, or find him in return…” Ignis agrees. “I must admit, there’s a lot of evidence for Gladio’s theory…”

“But what did I do?! What can I do to make this stop?! Arggh!” he pleads to the two men, who choose not to answer, though his questioning is cut short as he clenches his head, the ringing in his ears growing louder.

“I don’t want to see _toucans or trees_ …” Noctis rises after the pain subsides, nearly stumbling as the gardens swirl in his attempt to find his sense of balance. “I want to see _him_ …”

“Where are you going, Your Highness?” Gladio starts, Ignis collecting the scattered contents of the letter calmly.

“Back to the negotiations, I guess,” the prince spits, gingerly walking back into the Citadel.

“You need your _rest_ , Noct, at least until we can get a diagnosis, or a doctor!” Ignis scolds, Gladio placing an arm on his friend’s bicep. “Let ‘im go, Iggy…” he whispers, Ignis folding his arms and exhaling in Noctis’ wake.

“You don’t think the headaches are from stress, do you?”

“… _No_. He complains they come accompanied by guttural, unintelligible muttering, and recurring nightmares of stones the size of cities being flung at him as he tries to run away…but I am not the medical professional, so perhaps I ought to leave the diagnosis to the family physician,”

“I guess Prompto’s birthday card didn’t help…” Gladio gestures to the now organized letter. “I see the kid’s just as talented as ever…” he whispers to a profound photo of meaty skewers upon the grills of a truck.

“You know, I’ve thought about taking a trip out to Lestallum to talk to Prompto in order to get a better understanding of the whole situation…”

“Noct would probably warp straight into the sun if he knew you went out there without him,”

“I suppose rather than taking the time and money to travel out to Cleigne, I should inform his family that we have heard from him…” Ignis thinks out loud, Gladio unable to stop a soft laugh from escaping his lips as he rests his chest against the back of the tall, lanky man. Ignis double takes as he notices the tips of their fingers meet, the gloves upon his own hand failing to mask the slight shiver that courses down his body at the touch.

“Have you ever thought about having kids of your own one day?” Gladio chuckles, Ignis instantly growing flustered and pushing his glasses firmly against the bridge of his nose.

“When in the _world_ would I ever find time amidst this royal family and its _drama_ to start a family?! And what do you mean _‘of my own’_?”

“Nothin’,” he grins, clapping Ignis on the shoulder before following after Noctis, leaving the advisor confused, lightheaded, and slightly warm.

* * *

 

**Two Years Later**

 

Prompto’s foot digs into the muddy hill, the earth sliding underneath the pressure of his heel. A classmate of his quietly looks over her shoulder to nervously observe the way he stands at a highly dangerous angle a good thirty feet above her, all for the sake of the perfect shot. He twists the lens in his hand, angling his whole body forward to catch a picture of a fuzzy caterpillar as it rests perfectly center in a bright green, dew-coated leaf.

He snaps the picture, but not without a cost; his terrified yelp breaks the silence of the entire forest, echoing high into the canopy. He grabs an exposed root before lifting himself upon flat ground, hissing quietly. He managed to scrape nearly his entire elbow during the frantic maneuver.

 _“Prompto?! Lunch time! We’ll be at the bus!”_ another classmate calls from below, though Prompto cannot see their face, for the entire damp, mossy forest is shrouded in impenetrable fog.

“R-right!” he replies, twisting his arm in his hands; loose bits of skin flake at the sight of the collision, lightly drawing blood. “I’ll catch up in a bit, okay?! We meet back at the bus at like, three thirty?”

“Yeah, you’ve got, like, two and a half more hours to eat and take your pictures, Prom!” the student replies, the blonde silently jumping at the nickname; no one else had ever called him by such a pet name, other than ---

“See you guys in a bit, then!” he adds, brushing soil off his front, and thoughts of the far away crowned prince off his mind. He absentmindedly flicks a worm back onto the moist, fertile ground, preoccupied by thoughts of the Caelum family he had managed to suppress for a considerable while.

Prompto had been following the weather in the newspaper for days. Muggy, oppressive days revitalized the outdoors, thus he’d scoped his spots for his photos nearly three weeks ago. The others in his Wildlife Photography seminar had not seemed nearly as dedicated to the art, and so Prompto had attempted to keep his spots a secret from the others who had signed up for the field trip.

He attempts to return the wave they shoot him through the misty curtain, Prompto sighing as he slowly treks under fallen branches and over toppled trees in an attempt to find the cave he had been scoping out for the two years he’d had his eyes on it. The Farmer’s Almanac said Daemon activity was less common in the early afternoons of August, and Prompto relies on such gospel, though he arms himself with the ceremonial daggers he had earned so long ago (though he pointedly ignores the Caelum crest on the sheath, and he pointedly ignores _how_ he’d earned them), just in case.

He presses his body against the trunk of a tree nearly twice his own width, stiffly allowing for a family of massive, shoulder height antelope to pass. Although the creatures were typically non-aggressive, he could forgive their startled mauling due to the uncertainty of the choking fog. He is careful not to crunch on leaves or twigs, having to press his hand against his mouth as the swishing tail of a creature he nearly collides with sends him a warning to pay better attention.

 _“Mom would beat my ass if she could see this…”_ Prompto whimpers, using the entirety of his upper arm strength to hoist himself upon yet another upward slope. _“Fuck me…”_ he moans, for the Rock of Ravatogh is completely invisible due to the weather; the trek to his exact location is too expensive and too far to make without the Art School’s specific sponsoring of a field trip, thus rendering his grant-winning shot completely ruined.

“Cave it is, then, I guess…” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his smartphone. The battery is on sixty percent, the young man relying on the phone as his gps back to the bus, for the wilderness and its secrets are much too vast and never ending to pursue without some form of navigation.

He walks for another thirty minutes in silence, unable to lose his melancholy thoughts of the Prince of Lucis in the smoky blanket through which he presses forward.

“His birthday’s comin’ up soon…” he mumbles, Prompto having saved only slight, brief moments of communication between them for said day, never by phone. He knew his letters always reached the royal family, for Gladio would text him upon their arrival.

_We got your letter. Glad you’re safe and doin’ alright. Noct’s pretty upset and pretends not to care, but we’re pretty sure he’s keepin’ everything you send him in a drawer at his place. Ignis stumbled upon them when he was cleaning up over there one day, said that it was the only organized space in the whole apartment. Iggy and I are both blown away by how much better your photography’s getting, and you were awesome to begin with. Hopin’ you’re well out there, kiddo, and that we’ll see each other again soon._

Noctis’, Gladio’s and Ignis’ attempts to call him had stopped by the Winter Solstice of the first year. Although, Prompto frowns, his hand instantly swiping his phone to close the contact window, his own desire to ring them had taken much discipline over the years to ignore.

He nods determinedly as he (painfully) emerges from a thorny thicket, the massive, stony entrance to a wide, dark cave before him, a snaking dirt path leading to yet more forest just on the left of said entrance. The old, rickety wooden sign bearing the words _“Danger! Daemon Activity Within!”_ root him in place for only a few seconds’ time before he starts toward the entrance, though a loud, gusty roar from within its bowels stops him in his tracks.

“…maybe I’ll eat some lunch first!” he nervously chuckles, swiftly opting toward the dirt path, slipping his way through narrow, jagged rocks and cliffs until he happens upon a mountain top. Although the usually breath taking panoramic view is rendered grey and white by the fog, a sight no less interesting than the landscape captures the blonde’s silent, shocked attention a few hundred feet away.

“Another one…?” he whispers, crouching low against the rocks. The low, metallic rumbling of the rectangular ship below shakes the ground, the bright red light of the emissionless engine nearly blinding Prompto as they reflect against the water droplets. He shields his eyes from the impossibly bright light source, dozens of heavily armored Magitek Soldiers plopping to the ground in eerie soundlessness. Their robotic bodies do not even react to the shock of their weight hitting the ground, for they instantly stand impossibly still, upright and at attention.

“My knees would’ve given out at a drop like that…” Prompto whispers, narrowing his eyes in disgust at his alleged cousins, of which he’d seen more and more of as of late. The Niflheim ships lined the horizon, never dropping down into Lestallum itself, but always on the untamed edges of nature. Red, plasma-like waves permeated the air at night, a phenomena Prompto attributes to secret Niflheim activity, for it began earlier that year, along with increased Niflheim presence. The people of Lestallum rarely talked about it. The newspapers had also failed to host any reportages either, for daily life had not changed, and the machines were, according to his current watch, rarely aggressive. They silently stand in place instead, as if deactivated, or waiting for a certain trigger.

“I’m not crazy…they’re there, I can see them…” Prompto mutters, for the ultimate silence from both press and people had left him paranoid and concerned, that perhaps his sightings of the infantry were more attributable to his own dilemma, rather than any conspiracy. He is careful to turn off the flash on his phone before he shakenly raises it to capture a picture of the scene, the footage blurry, but usable.

He opts not to venture closer. He closes his eyes and breathes heavily before opening up a text window with Ignis Scientia, his thumbs rapidly texting a brief message.

_I’ve been seeing Niff soldiers around here a lot lately. No one’s saying anything about it. They don’t do anything but stand there. I’m still kind of worried. Thought you guys should know._

His heart accelerates as he hits ‘send’, his anxiety instantly replaced by silent reprimanding. How foolish it was of him to assume that Ignis would not know, for it was his job as advisor to serve as a political strategist, to guide the king and prince. Naturally they would know, what with their two-year long, unresolved negotiation with the country. Perhaps it was even an unspoken agreement between the two nations, one kept entirely from the eyes of the public. Of course Ignis would _know_.

He shakes his head, walking backward quietly from the scene, unnerved by the figures. He shouts as his heel catches on a jagged pebble, sending him toppling backward down the dirt path. His body rolls rapidly downward into the very cave he sought, the blonde moaning and screaming as he feels bones fracturing and flesh tearing. His frame only slows once he splashes violently into a freezing, stagnant pool of dark water, Prompto shivering as he hoists himself onto the cool, dry floor on the other side of the shallow puddle.

He lies in excruciating pain for a few minutes, his face, body, and clothes covered in blood, water, and mud. He still gathers what little strength he has left to curl up against the cavern wall as the heavy sound of marching footsteps echo throughout the darkness, a couple of Magitek soldiers stopping forebodingly at the cave’s entrance. He shivers as his breath rattles, Prompto unable to press himself any flatter against the floor and wall to avoid the beaded, red lines of sight that waver over every surface.

“Please…” Prompto begs at no one in particular, the soldiers bringing the sights of their guns to their eyes, standing still, waiting to sense motion before firing.

He slumps against the floor and exhales as the soldiers leave, though, Prompto notes dishearteningly, _down_ the path, back toward the bus. “Aw, _shit_!” he whines, for his black camera worth thousands of Lucians rests innocently splintered in the puddle. He would have to mourn it later, he concludes, for his camera serves as an adequate sacrifice should it grant him escape from his predicament in return. His phone, which he pulls from out of his pocket, is cracked, though functional. The motion causes him to moan from incomprehensible pain, his right wrist dangling at a sickeningly dislocated angle. He cradles it against his body, frantically searching for an alternative exit on his phone, for Niflheim soldiers block the initial path.

“Two miles, Prompto…there’s a small entrance two miles away…you can do it…” he whispers to himself, staggering as he light headedly attempts to stand. It would not shock him if he has a concussion. He desperately clings to the wall as he edges forward, trying to stay as silent as possible. He is doubled over, limping as he goes, still holding his wrist against his body.

He struggles to go even a mile in nearly forty five minutes, his bruised and bloodied body unable to tackle the angled slopes of the cave without causing him further injury. He pants as he slides down the gravely path for the fifth time, panting as he checks his buzzing phone.

_Hmm, that is very strange indeed. We know nothing of Niflheim activities beyond the wall. I imagine Noctis and King Regis will find your tidbit very intriguing. Thanks for letting us know, Prompto. We miss you._

He chuckles at Ignis’ message, though regretfully wishing he had taken the time to grab a classmate’s phone number before running off.

“I’ll just rest here a moment…” Prompto whispers, though he opens his eyes nearly as quickly as he closes them --- a massive, disgusting Arachne hisses as she prowls only a few feet away from him, Prompto quietly frozen in fear, praying she takes no notice of him.

His prayers to The Six are useless. She digs her angled, thick pincers into the ground as she spots her weakened dinner, Prompto gripping his hand onto the hilt of his dagger, drawing it with a cry of agony as his wrist registers the motion, slicing upward at her belly as she strikes.

“Holy shit…” Prompto cries, both from the pain of his aching body, as well as at the sight of the spider falling against the cavern floor with a loud _thud_. His dagger is coated in the black blood of the now dead Arachne, Prompto chuckling from shock, surprise, and trauma. “I guess that’s what adrenaline does to you…” he pants, but a hand snatches the knife from his grip, Prompto shouting once more as he backs so hard against the wall, his vision splits.

“If you get Daemon blood into your open wounds, you could come down with Starscourge,” a deep, stern voice informs him, Prompto moaning as he massages the back of his skull. “You should know that already, Prompto,” the voice scolds further, and Prompto’s sore jaw drops as he registers, with a disbelieving realization, that the voice is familiar, and belongs to none other than Cor Leonis.

“I --- I ---“ he stammers, the handsome man with the assuredly permanent scowl on his face seemingly unphased by the fact that the two men meet in such an unlikely location. Prompto is thankful they do, however, realizing as he comes to that Cor’s Masamune is sleek with black blood as well, the diagonal rip across the Arachne’s abdomen mirroring the length of his blade. Her entrails sprawl wetly across the cavern floor, Prompto retching as he covers his mouth, the older man helping him to his feet and guiding him away from her body.

 _“That was probably the killing blow…”_ Prompto morbidly jokes internally.

“What are you doing here?!” he asks breathlessly as his stomach settles enough for him to speak.

“I could, and _should_ , ask the same of you…” Cor snaps, clearly nowhere near as pleasantly surprised to see Prompto as Prompto is him. “Is _this_ what they teach you in art school nowadays?!” he supports the limping Prompto with a strong arm around his waist, both men bowing their heads as the ceiling overhead lowers.

“I ---“ Prompto shamefully stammers, his exhaustion finally catching up with him as he lulls in the man’s arms.

“We’ll talk when we get out of here; where there’s one, there’re always more…” Cor explains solemnly, readjusting Prompto in his grip. The two walk swiftly and silently the remaining mile and a half, the brightness of the fog outside blinding the blonde immediately as Cor guides them both though a narrow, makeshift entrance to the cave, emerging on the other side of the mountain.

“The bus…” Prompto deliriously mumbles, Cor grunting as he gently places Prompto on the ground, surveying the land in front of him to gain his bearings. “M-my classmates…my professor…the bus…it’s probably left…”

“I’ll make the call to your school, you wait right here, I’ll be back in a minute. You are not to move from this spot, do you understand me?” Cor humorlessly commands, somewhat confused at Prompto’s weary chuckle.

“Do I look like I’m moving anytime soon, dude?” he laughs, thankful that Cor cracks a brief smile before grunting again and setting out a few feet forward down the hill, pacing back and forth as he brings his phone to his ear.

“Clarus? Yes --- I saw it --- yes --- the King’s suspicion is correct --- the fog out here is atrocious, I got lost in a cave, but I promise I will have documented proof to show at the end of the week, if you can convince the King to hold further negotiations off just a while longer--- you will not _believe_ who I ran into out here --- yes, that’s right --- Argentum, the photographer boy, good friends with your son and the prince --- came out here for Art school --- I’ve got him barely conscious and slumped up against a rock right now ---“

 _“Clarus, that’s…that’s Gladio’s dad…”_ Prompto can barely keep his eyes open, even at the mention of his name. He does not register the closing remarks of Cor’s conversation, merely that he places his phone back in his pocket before taking wide strides up the mountain side. Prompto catches a glimpse of an ethereal, black-haired woman in a golden kimono just over the Marshall’s shoulder, the woman tilting her head and smiling at him as he finally succumbs to exhaustion.

* * *

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Cor elects an aggressive and unorthodox question as his opening choice of words for the blonde, who now wakes. He has no idea how much time has passed, merely that the sun has completely set, and the fog has finally subsided. His dirty clothes are cast on the floor in favor of a soft, white robe, his blistered and beaten body clean and wrapped with gauze and ointments.

The first aid still makes it impossible for him to move too quickly or too ambitiously. He just barely manages to sit up from the sea of comfortable blankets that must have made up the Marshall’s bed, his eyes adjusting to the darkness to reveal that he sits in a lush hotel room.

“I do miss the royal sleeping arrangements…” Prompto whispers into his chest, his rock solid mattress at his apartment most likely missing Prompto as little as he misses it. Cor brings the mirror that sits atop a dresser to angle at the blonde, who jumps at the sight of his own ravaged body; his eye is black and swollen, red and purple welts violently plaguing his body like a nasty pox. Red stripes of eviscerated skin strike down his arms and legs where his fall had sanded away the upper layers.

“You think this is bad? You should have seen my camera…” he attempts to joke, Cor shaking his head, clearly in little mood for any.

“What in the hell were you doing up there?!”

“…well…” Prompto starts, rubbing his forehead with his left wrist, his right one still too tender to move. “My class, we were --- we were taking photos, in the mountains ---“

“Right…” Cor nods, patient with Prompto due to his clear disorientation.

“And the student with the most impactful picture got a ten thousand Gil research grant, so I went up, to take a picture of that cave, with the opening, maybe with the Rock of Ravatogh in the background…”

“I guess I know how much you think your life is worth,” Cor folds his arms, not even flinching when Prompto spits blood into a waste basket on the side of the bed.

“But it’s bigger than that --- I’ve been seeing Niflheim ships in the sky for weeks ---“

He is grateful that Cor’s features light up at the topic, his acknowledgement confirmation that he had not imagined them. “I texted Ignis --- you know Ignis --- I texted him, that I’ve been seeing them, that no one else is talking about them, or mentioning them, but they’re there…” he rambles, bringing a finger to point out the window. “You see that red stuff? In the air?”

Cor instantly rises and walks toward the window, squinting his eyes as he shakes his head no.

“Sometimes it pulses, kinda like an aurora…” Prompto dreamily continues. “I started seeing this red vapor in the air around the same time as the ships…I found one, on the mountain top. The soldiers just… _jumped out_ …” Prompto trails off as Cor takes his seat and crosses his arms once more. “They seemed inactive, and I tried to back away as quietly as I could, but I --- I tripped --- a-and _fell_ …and by some incredible will of The Six to keep me alive, you saved me…” Prompto lamely finishes, thankful the Marshall, who had a knack for always catching Prompto in less than honorable situations, does not laugh. He continues to frown, however, Prompto hoping he breaks his silence. His wish is granted.

“King Regis has suspected Nifhleim mobilization has been occurring beyond the wall now for quite some time…” he begins, Prompto easing back against the pillows, his neck beginning to ail him. “For what purpose and in what way is still unknown, but I took it upon myself to do reconnaissance throughout Cleigne for two purposes: one of them regarding the King’s suspicions that you too, texted Scientia about earlier this afternoon, the other…” he trails off, and Prompto can tell with the way he pauses and stands still that he debates his choice of words.

“…I am very interested in you, Prompto Argentum, and I feel that it is not by accident that I found you in that cave,” is all he says, Prompto sitting up and looking at him nervously.

“…I --- uh --- I like _girls_ , Marshall ---“ is all Prompto can assume the man means, unable to contain his disbelief.

“Do _not_ be dense, or I’ll add another welt on your eye,” Cor threatens, Prompto straightening up quickly. “I _know_ about you…” he knicks his head toward Prompto’s left wrist, the blonde’s eyes widening as he recoils softly into himself.

“W-what do you mean…?!” he whispers fearfully, Cor never once breaking eye contact.

“Surely I don’t have to explain it…”

“How do you know, then…?” Prompto chokes, Cor peering out the window.

“I’ve seen your mark once or twice during training, though I never thought to put it all together until our increased interactions with Niflheim as of late --- I happened to overhear that Chancellor, Ardyn Izunia, discussing it with Ravus Nox Fleuret, the brother of the Oracle…”

“…Well if you putting two and two together makes any sense of any of this, please feel free to share! Because I dunno if you _magically managed_ to show up and catch the part where the soldiers were ready to blow my head off! It’s not like we’re in cahoots and we just dial them up when I’m ready for a chat!” Prompto snaps, gathering Cor’s affronted attention. “But I came out here to get _away_ from this, from Noctis, from you all ---“ Prompto pleads, the words slipping from his mouth before he can stop them. “I swear, the whole time I was friends with the Caelums, I didn’t know --- I promise --- If you’re here to court marshall me or --- or put me before a firing squad --- I promise I didn’t know, I _still_ don’t know what it is, what it means, what I am ---“

“I do not know precisely what it all means either, Argentum, but your loyalties are hardly in question. I _do_ suspect that Niflheim is playing Regis and the Kingdom of Lucis for fools. I’ve also known you to be a great friend to the Prince and his minders, and I suspect having such a close friend with the mark of the Magitek will come in handy,”

“What do you mean?” Prompto’s eyebrows curl in the wrinkles of his forehead, both his and Cor’s eyes following the silent trajectory of a Niflheim ship as it noiselessly flies over Lestallum, and toward the mountains once more.

“I mean that I suspect a dark day is coming for the Kingdom of Lucis and its royal family, and that I am asking you to return to Insomnia from a position of national security and interest to serve as a member of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum’s Crownsguard,”

Prompto can only scoff and laugh softly at the Marshall’s request, the blonde lowering his head into his one good hand.

“So then you want me to go all the way back out there because you think this mark on my arm can play a role in --- in _whatever_?!” Prompto reiterates from complete disgust. “I don’t even know what it _means_ , and frankly I don’t _want_ to, I just ---“ though he falls silent as Cor approaches the bed, his stoic expression and scolding voice putting Ignis to shame.

“The fact you notice Niflheim’s movements too shows me a part of you is not just some Insomnian college boy getting his education in a town where the women are conveniently barely clothed. And if you take notice because you are not a part of their ranks, then it must be because some part of you still cares for the prince and his wellbeing…”

“Of course I care!” Prompto exasperatedly responds, silently wishing the Marshall had left him for silky spider food were his death able to spare him his current conversation. “He’s the prince of my homeland, of where my parents live, he’s my _friend_ , he’s…” Prompto decides to spare the Marshall the oversentimental addition of _“the love of my life”_ , the blonde’s feelings for the prince only having grown easier to ignore over the years, but no less in their intensity.

“But I just --- I don’t understand what it is I have to do to earn my peace…” Prompto huffs, Cor instantly firing back.

“I’m forcing you to do nothing, spare me your self-indulgent whining,” he snaps, Prompto moaning as he folds his arms, his sore shoulder twinging with pain.

“I’m not meant to be in that world, Marshall…” Prompto tersely responds, Cor still continuing to stare out the window.

“Unless you are one of The Six in disguise, then you have zero authority in your statement,”

Prompto sits in silence, thankful that Cor gives him a moment to process his proposition. He mulls over the prince, the Empire, the King, Luna, from whom he had not heard in quite some time, and his role within it all.

“I just don’t understand what you think it is that I can do that you came all the way out here to ask me…” Prompto shakes his head.

“I think, with a little more training, if your performance in that cave is the best you got --- you can serve as an excellent hand to the future king in terms of combat…”

“Why not you?” Prompto asks quickly; the royals seemed to have a distinct fixation for assigning him roles they themselves would be better suited for.

“I have other jobs as Marshall beyond standing by Noctis’ side, I cannot afford the sacrifice in time,”

“Okay, but…”

“I also think your mark could allow us access to the intricacies of the Empire in ways we do not yet know…”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a look at your own wrist, Argentum. The mark is a barcode, is it not?”

Prompto nods softly, not even needing to look down at it to confirm.

“I’ll continue doing research whilst assisting the King in his negotiations,” Cor nods, though Prompto says nothing in return. “Sitting here and ignoring the truth does nothing. You can stay here in Lestallum and chase the ships and ignore who you are, or you can put yourself to good use. The choice is ultimately yours, but I must say that I suspect your cooperation with the future king will save hundreds of thousands of lives, if the Empire confirms my deepest suspicions,”

Prompto shifts in the blankets, rubbing his head.

“If they cause you such hurt, then assist us in helping take them down,” Cor growls, Prompto lifting his head to look the weary, battle scared man in the eye. He swallows what few words he manages to accumulate in his head, growing anxious at the thought of leaving what little quiet he’d managed to fashion for himself as a photography student.

“Do you know how sorely Prince Noctis misses you?” Cor cruelly adds, Prompto looking up quickly and growing lightheaded at the thought of the prince mourning his absence, though saying nothing in response; he knows the Marshall to not be the type to care for such emotional topics.

“If I agree…” Prompto sighs, staring at his bandaged hands. “Can you promise the safety of my family?”

“They’ll receive the highest status and clearance of immediate relatives to a member of the Crownsguard,” Cor nods, Prompto shaking his head, his dried lips slightly parted.

“And Crownsguard…that’s _forever_ , right?” Prompto whispers, barely audible. “That’s a lifelong commitment, is it not?” he mentally wonders what it was that had driven him further away that day at the Citadel --- Ardyn’s dire, cryptic mumblings, or the sight of the one he loves, forever wrapped in the arms of another?

“A lifelong commitment is only as long or short as one’s life itself, Argentum, and if my deepest fears are correct, then the battle ahead may number all of our days…”

“Great…” Prompto tonelessly, sarcastically utters.

“We both know your place is not here,” Cor persists, Prompto closing his one unswollen eye. _“Do I really?”_ he mentally snaps, though his features ease as he realizes the only things he had ever _truly_ known were the love of his parents and the love of the prince --- both firmly rooted in Insomnia, beyond the wall…

“Please don’t tell Noctis I’m coming…” Prompto quietly requests. “I’d like to tell him myself…”

“I’ll see to it I contact your professors to let them know. I suggest we take a couple weeks for your wounds to heal, and for a little bit more training before we make our way to the Citadel…” Cor nods, Prompto only half listening, consumed by his own shock in agreeing.

“I can see the red pulses, now that you mention it,” Cor adds as he takes out his cellphone, nodding curtly before he leaves the room in order to have another private phone call.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is kinda short, and slightly less detailed, because it's a bit of a bridge between Prompto leaving and him coming back.
> 
> I know the two year jump is abrupt and messes a bit with the pacing, but I did it for two reasons:  
> To make the timeline and ages match the canon.  
> So that, even if I totally don't SHOW IT like a good writer does, enough time has passed between Prompto and Noctis seeing each other again that it doesn't make Prompto seem bipolar in his decision to return. He's thought a LOT about everything.
> 
> As much as I would have spent more time going into their life apart, this thing is already at so many words, and they haven't even left for Altissa yet, Jesus Christ. I am thinking about stopping the story pretty soon. I'm gonna write a few chapters of their adventures on the road, then let the game's canon take over, albeit with way more private, secret stolen moments between Noctis and Prompto.
> 
> But knowing me we're probably another 800,000 fucking words away from that point so don't fret, I guess.
> 
> I was agonizing about how Prompto was gonna be convinced to come back. I genuinely had NO idea how I was gonna pull that rabbit outta THAT hat. Then I realised in that Parting Ways Prologue released by Square, Prompto was brought to the castle by Cor, so I went with that! 
> 
> I have to ask for everyone's forgiveness for the complete and utter Deus Ex Machina that went on with this chapter with Cor showing up. But considering we're all here because we like the game, it's not as if we're not already used to poorly written and shoddily explained instances of story telling within the canon narrative, so hey, ANYTHING GOES! So whatever.
> 
> PS - I ship Gladnis, but nowhere near as passionately as Promptis. That being said, I've never been the type to believe that everyone is GAY GAY GAY, even in fanfics. I'm not saying that fics where everyone is slashed are wrong, I like READING them, just not writing them. Anyway, I can't help but throw a bit of implied Gladnis in there. I MIGHT even write up a separate Gladnis oneshot at some point because they're creepin' up on me REAL HARD.
> 
> Quick question! Are there any good Oracle Prompto Promptis fics out there y'all would recommend?


	22. I've Posted a Companion Piece

SORRY GUYS IT'S ONLY TECHNICALLY A NEW CHAPTER!

I posted it as a separate piece called Don't Put Your Elbows on the Table. Some of you guys wanted to read about their two years apart, so I wrote a little bit about them. The next chapter will be the two of them meeting up again in Lucis. I haven't started on it though! Hope you enjoy!


	23. Shorthairs

Three Months Prior

 

The first vision is the one without Gladio. The Citadel is besieged and burning, the smell of smoke and searing flesh filling the feeble king’s lungs. He is crushed under the weight of a fallen statue of Shiva, pinning him to the floor. His legs are pulverized, the vertebrae of his spine permanently severed. Clarus lies dead at his side, the second to last to fall, save for the son of the King, Prince Noctis. Regis stretches out his hand and tries to scream as the Magitek Stormer’s sword violently impales his weakened son, blood bubbling from the dying prince’s lips.

The second is that without Ignis. An old, emotionally stretched Noctis sits at his throne, head in his hands. He wearily hears the fourth plea from a beggar at his feet, her baggy, dry hands curled in gnarled, malnourished desperation. The Niflheim Empire had long since taken over the Kingdom of Lucis, having left the Kingdom so ravaged into submission by war, that Noctis has little resources or means to provide for the crumbling city and its starving people. The siege of Insomnia is on its fifth hundredth day. Darkness filters through the wall King Noctis can barely maintain, the Daemons of starvation within its bounds so much greater than those of Hell.

The third is a glimpse of life with Prompto’s continued absence. Noctis is blindfolded and tied to a chair. The chilling motif of iron and steel that clouds the room leaves Regis with enough of a tip that he is captured, a prisoner of Niflhiem. The city of Gralea is ravaged by constant artillery barrages by Lucian warships. Robotic Magitek drones meet them head on, filing into the streets in dozens of cohorts, brutally killing all they encounter --- civilian, child, or soldier. Noctis is bloodied and brushed, his two advisors trapped in the fray below. The ring’s magic quickly dies away along with Noctis’ strength, further usage meaning assured death for the King. A hand undoes the fabric at the prince’s eyes, which widen once he realizes he recognizes the one before him with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

There is no room for denial that a Daemonic abomination possesses the body of his old friend, the sight of him sending shivers down Noctis’ spine, even where it had been decades. His skin is ripped and taught, congealed against the horrid, moist, fleshy protrusions that mutilate his once thin frame. His eyes are fiery red, leaking pits, his mouth bloody and stuffed with hundreds of small, pointed teeth. His hair is the same unmistakable blonde; his long nails and fingers grip a silver revolver. A layer of thick, black sludge leaks from his body as he brings the barrel to the middle of Noctis’ forehead, smiling devilishly.

Regis bolts upright from his nightmare, as the corrupted image of his son’s best friend pulls the trigger. Cold sweat covers his body, even where his silken pajamas and blankets smother him in a warmth unnecessary for spring. His breathing is uneven and shallow, his hands shaking as he stretches them outward to switch on his bedside lamp. For all that his body wracks with fright and uncertainty, the tips of them gracefully press his service button.

He does not wait for a servant to don his night robes and dressings. The maid who slowly pushes his door open is surprised to see the king stands upright and semi dressed, the small light filling his stone room with just the faintest sheen of yellow.

“Yes, Your Majesty ---?!”

“You are to wake Cor Leonis and Ignis Scientia, and to have them meet me in the Crystal’s Chamber --- immediately,” Regis commands, both hasty and unkind.

“Yes, My King Regis, but the hour ---“

“Damn the hour and damn the input you wish to share that I did not ask you for. They are to be awoken and to meet me at once, am I understood?” Regis further presses the maid, his voice loud and commanding, though not so much that he could wake others within the castle or cause a scene. The maid flushes at being reprimanded, Regis’ stony glare leaving her with the confidence to do nothing but the ability to nod and shut his door.

He immediately exhales, closing his eyes and gathering his bearings before opening them determinedly. He strides down the unlit, cold hallway with such urgency that one would not know that Regis had slept at all, let alone had woken up only ten minutes before. His premonitions from the Crystal were rare, and even then, not always accurate. It does not stop him from nurturing the rage that seethes within him, a fury at the Crystal’s attempt to steal his son, even if it is only within his dreams.

He closes his eyes, and presses his head against an ornately etched set of heavy doors, doors that are sealed not by locks alone. He softly whispers a Latin passage against the fortified wood before placing the palms of his hands against them flatly. A purple and white stream of energy seeps from the ring and into the winged skull etched into the middle. Said skull’s eyes light up as the energy wells within them, Regis grunting from debilitating pain over the miniature rite.

It takes what little strength and energy he has to not collapse against the floor as the doors he leans upon for support part before him. He braces himself determinedly nonetheless, the room in which the crystal is kept dark and uninviting. The only source of light to illuminate his path is the eerie glow of amethyst emanating from the Crystal itself. It hums with a dark, sinister glow, the King stopping before it and frowning.

“What do you mean to show me with such visions? What tidings do you bring before the storm, Bahamut?” Regis’ impolite tone refuses to ease up, even before one of The Six. Anyone who had not stood before the Crystal would have quivered with immeasurable fear before the booming, unintelligible, almost demonic voice that fills the room in echoing, stereophonic rounds. Regis had known the trial since childhood, closing his eyes as the timbre of the booming voice blows his hair about, just slightly.

 _“WITH WHAT AUTHORITY ARE YOU GRANTED THE ABILITY TO DISTURB ME, REGIS?!”_ the voice is fearsome, dwarfing the courage of any man. Though the Astral resides in the Crystal and is thus incorporeal, he is no less menacing or imposing. Regis’ consultations with the God of Lucis are fleetingly seldom, but the necessity of his son’s wellbeing drives him to swallow his apprehension.

“The very same which you have bestowed upon me via my ancestors, the Line of Lucis! That very same too, with which you have chosen to disturb me this evening, with visions of my son and his undoing! _SPEAK_!” Regis retorts, shoulders tensing as the Crystal rewards his persistence with silence. “Not long ago, you showed me visions of my son alone, ending with his murdering of the Oracle. You showed me a world of eternal Dawn, my throne room in ruins. Tonight, you show me three distinct images, all ending in the destruction of my son and my Kingdom! You have my attention!”

 _“FIVE IMAGES BEARING FIVE FUTURES, KING!”_ Bahamut only confirms what Regis had easily inferred on his own, leaving the aging monarch only more enraged.

 “What am I to make of your messages, when Niflheim approaches, and my son’s coronation draws nearer? How much more blood must be spilled before you are finally satisfied?! And must the offering contain that of my only son?!” Regis nearly pleads, though his voice remains even and dignified as his heart pumps faster.

 _“INTERPRETATIONS OF AN ASTRAL’S MESSAGE ARE NOT FOR ME TO DOLE OUT TO THE DIMWITTED, KING OF LUCIS!”_ Bahamut unhelpfully roars, growing weary of his conversation with the mortal, no matter how highly ranked among men he may be.

“FIND SOME OTHER LAMB FOR YOUR SICKNESS!” Regis curses before the glittering stone, his hair lashing against his face and eyes as his defiance infuriates the spirit within. He turns without another word, his feet echoing against the pristine stone floor, the doors slamming behind him. He grips onto a waxed, golden table for support, clutching his chest; consulting with the Crystal, as well as entering the room housing it, cost magic from the ring that left its user weakened.

His now heaving breath manifests as a gasping choke through his thin lips, both from nerves, and the mourning of the varied fates of his son. Ignis and Cor jog towards the winded man, who allows himself to be hoisted upward by firm but gentle hands upon his biceps.

“What is the meaning of all this, Your Highness?” Ignis hastily questions, Regis’ tired eyes wavering between the two men, the king unable to stop himself from chuckling softly; they are fully dressed and dutifully alert, and truly the best companions anyone could ever ask for. “You look completely shaken and unwell ---“

“Shall we escort you back to bed?!”Cor suggests, mimicking Ignis’ concern.

“Please do not make me out to be senile, my friends…” Regis whispers with a calmness that does not reflect the fire inside of him. “I am afraid bed shall have to wait for us all, we have much to discuss.”

* * *

 

The Present

_Dear Mr. Prompto Argentum,_

_The Lestallum School of Visual and Performing Arts Board of Trustees is writing to inform you that your infrequent attendance and unsatisfactory performance this Fall semester leaves you at risk of having your scholarship revoked. After reviewing your overall report card as a student it is our understanding that this semester’s performance is out of character for you, and we would thus like to offer you the grace period of spring semester to improve your commitment to attendance and academic excellence._

_Understand that failure to bring your record up to scholarship standard will result in the loss of your scholarship in full, the apartment provided to you by the scholarship, as well as the ability to graduate with honors. Should your poor record persist, our Financial Aid office will be in further correspondence to discuss payment of the 45,000 Gil tuition, or loan options to continue your matriculation at this institution._

“I thought you explained to them what was going on?!” Prompto slams the letter down against the table, barely able to hear himself speak due to the blood pounding in his ears and throat. Cor, however, does not look up from his newspaper. “You – you told them I needed leave under the Crown!”

“I _told_ them…I just suppose the board of old, rich, established men don’t care…” Cor grunts, the sound of him flipping to the next page a ripping pause in their conversation. Prompto clenches his teeth, the hand that holds the spoon he uses to consume his oatmeal threatening to bury itself into the bone, he grips it so tightly. He does not know whether the burning sensation in his nostrils and his eyes is one of anger, or of severe disappointment. Prompto had done all he could the last two and a half months to maintain both academic achievement, as well as adhere to Cor’s ludicrous training regimen.

Where he could not outright explain to his professors that the Royal Lucian family needed him to miss class three out of five days of the week, Cor had promised to explain to the school the special circumstances under which Prompto’s attendance was likely to suffer. Cor does not look up at the sound of Prompto’s frustrated sniff, nor does he stir at the sound of his wooden chair scraping against the wooden floor of the hotel suite. Cor had switched to a two bedroom suite on the outskirts of Old Lestallum, Prompto having resided there with him the last month. While it made training easier, it made getting to school that much harder for the blonde.

“This is the second time this has happened to me…” he starts, his single person audience ever silent. “…Lucian Friends, I got kicked out of my scholarship because of my attendance…and now _here_ …” he hisses, pacing around the kitchen in helpless, stressed out circles. “And you don’t even _care_!” he accuses Cor, the statement enough to get the man to lower his paper.

“I’m here with a goal and a mission, Argentum. I care as much as my can, and my heart goes out to you, but it does not change the reality of the situation the royal family is dealing with in Lucis…”

“Well what about _my_ situation?!” Prompto stands up straight, glaring at the handsome, though battle scarred man’s face.

 _“He’s a prince, it’ll always be about him before you…”_ Prompto silently reminds himself, causing him to drop his determined gaze and instead angle it at the dusty wooden floor. “Or --- what about my situation is so useful to them that it’s worth me giving up my _future_ , my _life_?! You can’t really be charging the crown _hundreds_ of Lucians, _hundreds_ of miles away, training me for _hours_ a day, all because you think the prince’s ex-best friend --- or broken, Magitek Niflheim whatever-the-fuck, really --- has a part to play in this?!”

“…Apart for my own suspicions about your role, the King has some of his own,” Cor clearly wishes to maintain privacy over certain details, for he does not elaborate upon the King’s suspicions. _“While I cannot be sure, I suspect that each of those visions corresponds with Noctis’ future as a ruler without either Gladio, Ignis, or Prompto Argentum by his side,”_ Regis had confided to Cor alone, once sending Ignis back to bed after asking him details of the blonde’s whereabouts. _“Ignis claims to have been in very distant contact with Prompto over the last few years, for he had left for Lestallum rather abruptly, wishing to maintain little contact with Noctis, based on what Ignis had told me. But I need you to bring him here, Cor. I believe I have seen Noctis’ future without them, and without Prompto--- and it does not bode well for either of them. But you cannot scare him with such dire fortunes, Cor. Lady Lunafreya told me long ago that appealing to his sense of importance tends to do the job quite right…”_

“The _king’s_ ….” Prompto snaps back, ignorant to Cor’s internal reflection on his mission. Prompto sneers, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You seriously mean he doesn’t know a single person within his circles who could totally do the job it is you guys seem to think I’m just so awesome at?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it ---“

“So then why drag me into this? What if I don’t want to do this anymore?! What if I say I quit, to go away back to Lucis, to leave me alone?!” Prompto hastily propositions, sniffing snot back down his throat and gasping. His eyes are the strongest dams in the world in their attempt to hold back tears before the Marshall, though they are no less glassy and wet.

“Tell me sooner rather than later, so that I can stop charging the crown for this expensive hotel room…” Cor stoically replies, sat in the chair and emotionally unresponsive toward Prompto’s display of internal agony. “Don’t play at this as if you don’t have some sort of investment in it all, Argentum, why else would you train with me for the last month?!” Cor argues, both of them breathing heavily, though the sound is drowned out by the low-pitched reverberations of what is most likely yet another Magitek engine above. “Read this headline ---“ he scoots the Lestallum Star across the table, Prompto twisting his body around as he gingerly approaches the paper.

“ _Niflheiman and Lucian Negotiations to Officially Begin This Friday, Lady Lunafreya to be Present?!”_ Prompto’s eyes widen as he breathlessly reads aloud, his eyes darting to the black and white centerfold image of a dozen or so Niflheim warships surrounding the Citadel. “This…uh…” he starts, leaning a hand against the table and crossing his leg to alleviate pressure off the other. “Is this really what a _negotiation_ looks like?! Kinda seems like the Niffs wanna save the talking for later --- or _never_ , really…” Prompto whispers, his features alit with soft concern, for their cannons are angled toward the towering building.

“What is it _you_ see?” Cor gruffly interrogates, Prompto looking at him anxiously before looking down at the paper once more. “What is it that you seem to notice about the picture that the headline isn’t quite getting right?!”

“A --- a d-declaration of war…” Prompto mutters, eyes lidded peacefully shut as he holds out the newspaper to be grabbed once more by its owner.

“I see you’re smart enough for those scholarships you earn, then…” Cor adds, frowning deeply and taking the paper back.

“…but ---“

“I have never forced you to do this, Prompto. No matter what I or the King may wish, the choice is ultimately yours. If you want out, I do not blame you,” Cor cuts him off, but Prompto shakes his head, gathering his thoughts.

“But I leave you behind, and then what? Your family lives in Insomnia, correct?”

“Yes,” Prompto chokingly hisses so swiftly it almost sounds likes he merely sucks his teeth once more. He shakes slightly, bringing his forehead to his hands and pacing once more at the thought of violence within the crown city destroying his home, or losing his parents as casualties of war. “You promised me if I came back, you would see to it my parents would be safe,”

“I imagine either the prince or his father would see to their safety regardless of your choice,”

“T-thank you --- for that…” Prompto sits in the chair, his wobbling legs unable to support his nervous, shaking weight.

“But I imagine you would still like the opportunity to see them before whatever Friday brings?”

“I would…” Prompto whispers, eyes straight ahead and expressionless. “I just don’t understand what difference you think I could make…you see how I am at training, how hard it is for me --- Noc --- Noctis and I don’t even _talk_ anymore…” he adds, lip quivering at the thought.

“Do you accept the responsibility or not, Argentum?” Cor authoritatively ends the blonde’s session of self-doubt, casting him an ultimatum that turns his blood to a current of freezing cold.

“I just --- I want to be able to come back to school with my scholarship and a good record once I’ve given my service ---“

“You claim you saw the writing on the wall in this picture, and yet you think there will be a _coming back_?!”

“ _No_ , I just --- I just need some more time ---“

“There _is_ no time, Argentum!” Cor rises, leaning across the table, using the palms of his hands to support himself. The volume of his voice momentarily freezes the blonde in place. “The negotiations are set to start this Friday --- it is Monday, and it will take _at least_ a day and a half to drive back to Insomnia!”

Prompto closes his eyes solemnly before slowly nodding, opening them and looking down at hands, fidgeting them softly.

“Time is the last thing you have, Argentum,”

“And --- and I still don’t know what _this_ means,” Prompto tangentially adds, Cor having spent enough of the last month and a half together with the blonde to know he means his barcode.

“No, we don’t know what that thing means, but you can’t just _sit_ there, scared and afraid of it,”

“Well what if --- what if _war_ \--- suddenly _activates_ me, or --- or something?!” Prompto shivers at the thought, Cor shaking his head.

“Better then you activate on our side, than in the hands of the Niffs who come and forcibly collect you --- which will happen sooner or later…” Prompto’s stomach turns at the sickening thought of being seen as a _commodity_ or warhead, the two sides making their pitch to recruit and own him for their own personal side of the war effort.

 “I ---“ Prompto unsurely stammers, terrified at the thought of being forcefully taken to a _family reunion_ by the horrid soldiers and the man who commands them.

“Do not let yourself have trained with me for nothing,” Cor attempts to joke, but Prompto misses the try entirely, for he stares through the floor-to-ceiling length wooden shutter at another engine making its way toward the Disc of Cauthess miles away.

“Can I at least have some time to get some of my stuff and say goodbye to my professors?” Prompto tonelessly whispers, Cor closing his eyes and nodding; in all of his years of assembling troops for the King, he’d never met one who reminded him so much of himself in his own youth.

 

* * *

 

Prompto struggles with the laundry bag of clothes and small, personal belongings he slings over his shoulder, the blonde himself barely awake. Cor leans against the body of one of the royal family’s unmarked cars (Cor had traded comfort for subtlety, for the King's Marshall could not afford conspicuousness), checking his watch. Sunrise had yet another twenty or so minutes before the sun would begin to show its blinding face.

The car dips under the weight of Prompto placing the bag into the trunk, which he then slams shut. Cor, cross armed and indifferent, thrusts his body off the slightly rusted automobile’s passenger door, opening it so Prompto may situate himself within.

He slams the door as soon as Prompto slouches into his seat, exhausted. His hands, raw and calloused from training, sit unclenched in his lap. His eyes are lidded enough to mask all but a slight sliver of the windshield, through which he looks up at the endless, navy blue sky. The brown, grey and white bands of swirling galaxies are the only lights to guide them, for erecting consistent, powerful streetlights along the countryside was much too costly a project for a kingdom beyond the wall.

A black, circular outline rests against the sky where the moon usually sat this part of the morning.

“New moon, I guess…”

Prompto is always the first to start the conversations between the two of them. He is conscious to leave his unreciprocated comment at that, distinctly worried of how obnoxious he may appear to the general. Cor grunts in response as he ducks his head, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door. Prompto curls into himself as Cor’s entering the car lets in a gust of chilling, early March air. He mourns the lack of diesel smell at the starting of the car, for the scent had accompanied all of the older cars in Cleigne. It is it favorite of all his sensory memories regarding life outside of the crown city.

“You sure we’re gonna be alright leaving this early?” he quietly pipes up, but Cor merely brings the car into drive, his foot barely on the gas pedal as they begin their descent down the only road out of the city.

“Okay, then…” he whispers after the older man refuses him his response after two minutes. His speed exceeds eighty miles an hour, for his is the only car on the road. The radio is dialed down to zero, as are those of nearly all the royals, thus leaving Prompto with nothing to distract him but his own thoughts, anxieties, and the smooth, clean sound of the modern engine under the hood as it carries them forward. The large, thistly bushes and the thick, mossy sequoias are brown and grey, the subtle green bulbs upon the tips of their rain-starved branches invisible in the darkness that whizzes past.

The large, ancient mountains, brown and grey and black, serve as trusty placeholders against the canvas of the open sky, earthy, hulking silhouettes against the orangish violet of the budding dawn. It had been two years since Prompto had left Cleigne, or even the greater Lestallum region. He’d come to enjoy the area, only just registering, somehow, that he was leaving it, _truly_ , with a member of the Caelum entourage, a posse of people whom he’d managed to successfully avoid over the last handful of seasons.

“…Seriously, are we sure we wanna be on the road right now? There are Daemons a-after all…” Prompto nervously whispers, his knees against the dashboard so as to hide the side of the road from his line of vision.

“I’m not worried, if you can hold your own as well as you have in training, I’m sure we won’t have a problem…” Cor gruffly assures him, Prompto sitting up, his face growing hot. The first words actually spoken to him for the day by Cor are a compliment. He hopes his body does not betray him by making his flattery visible upon his face.

“You really think so?” Prompto’s voice, however, is not so loyal, hope and excitement easily detectable in his still sleep scratched voice.

“I don’t kiss ass because I like the taste of it, Argentum…” Cor’s eyes are fixed upon the road, his right hand gripped upon the gear switch.

“Ah…” Prompto nods, unsure how to proceed. He slowly slouches back into the worn, cracking leather seats, playing upon his smart phone (Cor’s car charger alone would have appraised the automobile for 30,000 Gil back in Lestallum, even given its worn paint job, and the hundreds of thousands of miles on the speedometer). He allows himself to get lost in puzzle games on his phone until the top of the sun’s orange yellow arc peers over the horizon, the blonde bringing a hand to cover his eyes as he quickly swings the visor down to ease his vision.

 

Nearly two hours have passed naught shared between them both Prompto’s soft, endearing yawns, and the quick, sharp _pops_ of his cracking joints as he stretches. The few Daemons left that prowl menacingly along the sides of the road furl into wisps of dark, sinister smoke, corporeal again only into the night.

 

The remnants of their existence filter into the sprawling rays of early morning sun. Mountains part to reveal a valley whose green is muted by the slowly ending winter. Prompto cannot help but sit up to enjoy the view, Cor casting him a silent, reserved look, hands still tightly in place against the wheel.

“Too bad for me my camera broke, i-in that cave…” he mutters to himself, though he brings his cellphone to snap one as best he can.

Cor grabs his thermos and steals a sip of coffee; the older of the two men seems little moved by the stunning view. Prompto exhales, slamming straight-backed against the worn leather seats. His ability to stay quiet would only last the extrovert so much longer.

“Need more coffee, gonna stop off at an outpost,”

“Right…” Prompto whispers in acknowledgment.

The car slows at an old style, rusty gas station, the two pumping stations unroofed. Prompto hops out of the car, stretching lazily, his navel exposed as his shirt travels all the way up his chest. Old buggies and hot rods zoom through the hoodoos of the deserted badlands, Prompto silently admiring the nature around him.

He is not sure how he catches the bottle of water Cor tosses him when he approaches, the steamy, barky smell of his coffee instantly corrupting the scentless void that is the inside of the vehicle. The seat Prompto slams down into is upholstered with a new sense of comfort, the slight break having done enough to break the monotony.

“So, uh…hope we’re not too far from the border of Lucis…” Prompto quips, Cor chuckling once and smirking, eyes on the road.

“I hope you have another eighteenish hours’ worth of sarcasm to keep you entertained, Argentum,”

“Knowing it wasn’t true doesn’t make me want it any less…” Prompto groans, leaning his head longingly against the sunshine-warmed window. This is not to say he takes the lengthy remainder of the journey that leaves him restless for granted. He is grateful for the world of time between himself and the Citadel, for eighteen hours arms Prompto with an ample amount of time to craft the explanation of his return he would present before the Prince of Lucis.

 

Parting from the man one loves had been a task impossible. Where Prompto had never given Noctis a true goodbye, could he thus treat him with a proper _hello?_ Or were the doors of departure left so unclosed, that he cursed them to an emotional paradox, a limbo of feelings? Would he even be remembered by the prince? Or is he likely to be forgotten, unforgiven, Noctis uninterested in seeing the blonde’s return in the first place?

The two years and forced insistence that he had moved on from the exhilarating world of being so _close_ to Noctis, that he had no place in the heart or mind or home of the Prince, were shallow in their successes. He is nervous; he can only fear that Noctis too, should find out just why he ran away. Or better yet, hate him so much that he does not care anymore why he _did._

Although him and Luna were meant to be married and crowned as King and Queen nearly two years ago, that did not mean those same two years had not passed with opportunities for their hearts to grow fonder, and further, from Prompto. With Citadel gates open wide in the attempt to open Prince Noctis up to his people, he’d probably come to know dozens of blondes and scores of photographers within the boundaries of his own realm.

Could Noctis have taken his left behind clothing and distributed it amongst the poor? Could he have collected the final pictures taken toward the end of their time with one another, and sold them to a tabloid? Did he leave the red notebook with Kelly green confessions of love to sit upon the bookshelf, as assuredly unread, as neglected as the tomes and edicts? _Damnatio Memoriae_ , Prompto squirms in his seat at the old Lucian words, for what if the Prince had erased the memory of his existence, the pain of remembering the one who left him so easily intractable before the dawn of war?

“You excited to see His Highness?” Cor awkwardly questions for the first time following Prompto’s silence, the blonde parting his dry lips. It could only be the divine conspiracy to mock him at play.

“I --- _I dunno really_ …” he chokes, coughing at the dryness of the air as it catches in his throat. “I hope you didn’t tell him I was coming --- it’s something I wanna tell him on --- _o-on my own_ …”

“I’ve only informed Ignis Scientia that I am bringing the third member of His Highness’ Crownsguard, whom they should await upon our arrival in the Citadel tomorrow,” Cor nods. “So I guess it all depends what you consider to be spilling the beans,”

Prompto swallows before nodding gingerly; there went the guilty sliver of hope Prompto had contradictingly wished that news of his arrival would reach the prince without his effort.

“I --- I gotta call him…”

“So that’s why you’ve been playin’ with that damn thing nonstop,” Cor accuses, and sure enough, the pad of Prompto’s thumb smears yet more fingerprints in hasty circles around the green call button on his phone’s home screen.

“I’m a little nervous, you know?” Prompto admits, though Cor furrows his brow, sparing a brief second to look at Prompto before facing the road once more.

“I got the impression the two of you were close?!”

“ _Were_ , being the k-key --- _keyword_ …” Prompto stammers, his shoulders slowly heaving as clouds overhead gather, small, transparent droplets of rain swelling from the dark grey sky like meteorological paratroopers.

“If there’s one thing you should understand about the prince, Argentum, it’s that very few people have ever gotten the chance to get to know him, let alone get close to him,” he starts, flicking a finger to adjust the windshield wipers to an appropriately rhythmic _back and forth_. “So even if your closeness is a thing of the past, it’ll do you more favors than you think,”

Prompto is now the one who says nothing; the details of just _why_ Prompto considers his relationship with the prince to be strained and complicated at _best_ are too great to discuss, even given the seventeen hours that are at liberty between them.

“…I was in your position once too…” Cor’s voice is filled with a surprising core of understanding and sympathy that Prompto would have never expected from him. “Granted, I was never a friend of the King --- just a fifteen year old boy of the court, who was spotted by the King’s shield. This was years ago, shortly before what little peace we have with the Niffs now. King Regis requested I joined his party in meeting Niflheim aggression at the border. I had never seen myself as a man of combat, and certainly not one on the right hand side of the King and his shields. But I went with them on that mission. It changed my life. There wasn’t a day I wasn’t afraid, or didn’t mess up. I know the fear, Argentum, the questions of just why they choose you, out of everyone else in the whole kingdom who could have possibly been selected,”

Prompto hangs on to his every word. His interest leaves him startled as he realizes the rain picks up harder, flooding the single, two-laned road that weaves in and out of mountainous hills of evergreens. Cor turns on the headlights, carefully wading through the torrent of the highway to veer onto a muddy dirt path. The bumpy road uphill nearly makes Prompto sick, his head threatening to hit the ceiling, the car is so buoyant. He clutches onto the door as Cor finally brings them to a halt before a dilapidated hotel, the wooden walls of which are green with rot. The earthy smell is pleasant, the rain cleansing, fresh, and warm, even in its uncomfortable barrage. He is surprised to see Cor runs to get out of the rain himself, the older man rarely so phased by the world around him to actively display his sense of discomfort.

Prompto stomps his feet and shakes his limbs of excess water once he makes it into the motel lobby, Cor wasting no time in consulting the clerk about a space for the two of them. The sheet of rain that divides the lobby from the wilderness outside leaves it invisible behind a slab of foggy grey. The sound of the thick, rapid drops is so impossibly loud that Cor merely settles for tapping Prompto’s shoulder and pointing toward a café attached to the motel through a hallway.

The rickety floor creaks heavily with each of their steps, the boards warped from years of lazy upkeep and constant downpours of inter seasonal rain.

He shivers as he falls into a white, plastic chair, for both the seat and his clothes are soaked to the bone, the outside air just warm enough to justify turning the central heating off. He curses the rain, both for his discomfort as well as for cutting Cor’s story short. A short, mute old man approaches their table, notepad in hand.

The hotel in which they seek refuge is just far away enough from Lestallum and Lucis that Prompto recognizes nothing on the menu.

“The – _the fries_ , please…” Prompto points and mumbles, nodding his head and giving the man a _“thank you,”_ as he collects their menus and walks away. “It’d be really neat to hear what you were saying…” Prompto sheepishly reminds Cor, who starts at the sudden voice before placing the smartphone he uses upon the table. “You know, about how I’m like you, I guess…”

“Hmm…” Cor collects his thoughts, biting into a burger composed of a lightly seared, medium rare meat that Prompto does not recognize. Fries are thankfully universal, he notes, taking three of them and dumping them in ketchup, chewing at them in very small nibbles.

“Clarus never explained to me why I was chosen for that mission,” Cor swallows, placing an elbow on the table and leaning forward toward Prompto. “But I went. I was afraid, I was a rookie, I was fresh, but I went. I was summoned forth by the crown, I did my duty, served my time, and before long, I went from the unknown, to The Immortal,”

While Prompto finds his story very inspirational, he cannot help but pessimistically assume that a combination of natural aptitude and two decades’ worth of immeasurable experience helped to bridge the gap between the monikers.

“I have a long way to go before I’m ever immortal…” Prompto sighs, subconsciously rubbing the barcode he hides underneath his sweatband. “Maybe the confused, or the like, super socially awkward…” he tries to jest at the realization that he caresses the marking.

“At least you get to know why you were chosen,” Cor grunts, Prompto raising his eyebrows briefly before focusing on his fries once more. “Well maybe you can ask Clarus and Regis when you get back?” Prompto suggests with a simplicity so pointed that it almost seems absurd that Cor had never thought of the idea himself over twenty years. But the man before him shakes his head as he takes a gulp of soda, sighing and smacking his lips.

“Why not…?” Prompto interrogates, leaning forward as well.

“Even after all these years, I’ve always feared that if I ask, they would realize they’d had the wrong man all along,”

Prompto leans back in his chair, mulling over the Marshall’s response. He brings a large, thick hand to wave his last admission away, Prompto certain he’d caught a rare, fleeting glimpse of just what lies underneath the stoic man’s impenetrable emotional armor.

“What I’m saying is, I don’t ask questions. Asking questions may one day give you answers you wish you had never sought. Asking questions may give your superiors questions of their own. I see my commands that I am given, and I serve my King and Country to the best of my ability. That is the nature of my duty, our duty. So long as I have no questions regarding the morality of my actions, I have none at all,”

Prompto cannot tell if the last clarification was a save for his previous exposure, or truly the man’s admittedly successful modus operandi. He finds, however, as he finishes the last fry on his plate, that his own circumstances were less interrogative than Prompto’s --- between the questions of Noctis and his advisors of why Prompto had left with only a handful of brief moments of correspondence --- between the questions he had regarding his origins and his tattoo --- between the questions of whether or not he had truly left his feelings for Noctis behind --- between the questions of _just why_ King Regis was summoning him too, in the same vein as Cor all those years ago --- he finds, the nature of his questions, in conjunction with his personality, it would be a lot harder for the blonde to stay silent than the man before him who preaches that silence is golden.

* * *

 

“This is my last warning to you, Noct --- _wake up_. It’ll be Iggy comin’ in here and kickin’ your ass awake next, and I’d rather deal with _my_ wakeup call than Iggy’s,” Gladio rolls his eyes at the young man who refuses to heed his warning and instead brings his covers above his head. He smirks upward toward The Six before snatching them off the bed with such a force that Noctis screams as he flies to the floor, Gladio unable to stop himself from laughing at the prince’s self-imposed misfortune.

“C’mon, kiddo, you gotta wash your ass before your new Crownsguard arrives,” Gladio helps Noctis up by gripping the back of his undershirt and bringing him to his feet, Noctis resignated and weightless. The prince’s eyes are narrowed in sleep and irritation; although he’d only been in his Citadel bedroom for the last two days, the mess sprawled all over the floor tells an entirely different narrative. Crests and jewels and pins and ties litter the floor, as well as various clauses of the treaty to be signed in two days’ time. Dried globs of shaving cream dot the floor in crusty polka dots, Noctis having sprouted enough facial hair to warrant the need for shaving on a regular basis.

Doing so carefully has not yet embedded itself in Noctis’ conscience, for Gladio quickly retracts his foot before he steps on a pile of loose blades dangerously collected upon the floor. Noctis’ hand travels quickly down his boxers as he scratches below the waistband, yawning dramatically.

“I’ll go tell Iggy you didn’t wake up with a headache this morning…” Gladio chuckles, Noctis snorting the contents of his stuffy nose down his throat before he grabs his towel, cracking his back.

“You two’ve been hanging out way too much…” Noctis yawns, scratching the nest of pubic hair left exposed by his falling underpants. “You’re almost the same dude at this point…”

“Not really, just that the treaty’s got Iggy so worked up and busy that I gotta pick up his slack. _You_ , on the other hand, don’t seem nervous at all,”

Noctis shrugs. Much of his emotion is still locked behind his groggy disorientation over just having woken up. The well of sickness in his stomach and the near week-long lack of appetite had done enough to underscore his nervousness, if only to himself. The apprehension of officially being crown and married --- even if it is two years later than initially planned --- showed in his blanched, clammy complexion and his utter exhaustion at the world.

The stress of having to logistically accommodate for civilian safety during the treaty had kept his father in his throne room for nearly sixteen hours a day. Ignis had alternated between Regis’ and Noctis’ side as political counsel, Clarus with Regis, and Gladio by the prince as bodyguards. The headaches which still regularly plague Noctis, without either cause or cure, had politely lessened before the daunting pressure of the upcoming weekend.

Staff and servants detail the entire Citadel, the castle floors and walls and galleries waxed in a coat of grandeur he had not seen from the towering palace since high school. His own apartment, trashed and carelessly lived in as usual, would thankfully see no treaty signing after parties, thus the mess can thankfully wait.

“Hey, uh Gladio --- hold on a sec…” Noctis tiredly, though interestedly commands. The tall man pokes his head back through the threshold, watching the sleepy man rub his eyes absentmindedly. “Did Iggy say anything about who would be arriving?”

“Cor’s been pretty quiet as usual, accordin’ to Specs, but apparently they’re making good time and should be here by this afternoon. So that means ---“

“That means the Crownsguard ceremony can take place today…” Noctis interrupts and folds his arms, rolling his eyes. “As if we don’t have enough shit to do…”

“Just in case you _really_ want me to sound like old Speccy, I’ll remind you _for_ him that this all could have been squared away if you’d picked your Crownsguard two years ago when he first gave you the assignment,” Gladio scolds, but Noctis visibly stiffens; he _had_ chosen the last member of his Crownsguard. It was the member who had not chosen _him_.

Gladio inwardly regrets his choice of words, for he knows the prince is occupied by thoughts of Prompto, his long forgotten, though no less missed, friend. Where his tears had long since dried, and his wishes to see him were no longer spoken so longingly aloud to the two minders, Gladio had known Noctis long enough to assume that his dreams still wandered toward Prompto and his wellbeing at least once a day.

“…He still hasn’t responded to your invitation to your coronation ceremony, has he?” Gladio empathetically infers, Noctis grabbing a bottle of shaving cream and a well-made, bamboo bristle brush.

“Can we just _leave_ it?!” Noctis impatiently spits, Gladio having been a victim of such vulnerable conversations with the prince that he had learned not to take such reactions personally.

“Right, I’ll leave you to it I guess. I’m gonna go find Ig himself, see if he’s finished with breakfast already…”

“Cool, just save me a spot, please…” Noctis calls after him with a noticeable softness now the conversation steers away from Prompto. The longing for breakfast is only superficial; he tries to force his appetite to return where his physical body shows no interest in eating. He brings a hand to grip into his sleep-jostled hair, turning the knobs of his shower as far as they will allow.

Who could the new member of the Crownsguard be, he wonders, stepping into the sauna of a shower he situates for himself. Where he is slightly irritated that the high council had sent Cor to collect he or she without his consent, he could not argue that his two year silence regarding the selection left them much choice.

_“See to it you are not rude to the new member upon their arrival, Noctis. You have a tendency to wall yourself away, and you best shirk this habit of yours before your Crownsguard. You are to greet them cordially and display your utmost gratitude at their offer of their services. I ought to see you chatting them up at your ceremony tonight, and not sat away in a corner looking at your phone,”_

Ignis’ warning resonates as an echoey reminder in his mind, Noctis scoffing before stepping out of the shower, drying his hair, styling it meticulously in the large vanity. The last two years in his own apartment had been highly enjoyable. Where the prince is less than personable, his flat allowed him much, needed space away from everyone and everything, time to silently reflect and relax. Where the entirety of his apartment had been styled in dark motifs of black, grey, and brown, his wing at the Citadel is bright, white and grey and silver and gold, marble and granite and ivory bedecking everything.

The large, grandiose sizes of his accommodations perfectly befit the soon-to-be king. Yet, with such little time he had spent in the Citadel since high school, he finds it difficult and discouraging to linger about without Prompto. Life without the blonde had reminded him how lonely the years without him had truly been. While Gladio and Ignis were as loyal as ever, so too, were they headstrong and pedantic, respectively.

Noctis slips on a charcoal black t-shirt, the collar of which is imbued with small skulls. He throws a military jacket over the casual top, sliding his legs through a pair of black cargo pants. He bunches them at the ankles, before lacing up black, Crownsguard-issue boots.

He grabs his phone before lazily making his way toward the dining room, parting the thick, heavy doors, hands in his pocket as he stands in the threshold. Ignis stands over Gladio with a skillet in hand, flipping a neatly folded omelet onto his plate. The broad shouldered man rubs his hands together, taking little time to dig in to the eggs, moaning and nodding enthusiastically.

“Noct…” Ignis instantly beings to scold, Noctis plopping into a chair, the smell of the delicious eggs coaxing his appetite from the dark depths of his deeply-internalized anxiety.

“Pass some my way --- I’m actually _starving_ ,” he whispers, Ignis scowling before dropping the second omelet onto his plate and handing him a roll of silverware.

“What did I tell you about your ridiculous alterations to your uniform?” Ignis immediately continues, Noctis ravenous as he digs into his breakfast, not having eaten in nearly three days. Noctis chews unceremoniously loud, swallowing and breathing before pointing toward Gladio, who wears his own uniform shirt unbuttoned, his toned, muscular abs and chest completely exposed.

“You both look incredibly juvenile,” Ignis assures him, pouring each of the three of them a cup of water from the usual crystal pitcher. “What shall the new Guard think of us, looking so sloppy and childish?!”

“I’ll tell you what they’ll think, Iggy, they’ll be like _, ‘check out the body on him’_! You _see_ these abs?! Nothin’ says _‘don’t fuck with Noct’_ like these babies glarin’ at you from a mile away,” Gladio defends himself with an even, serious voice. Ignis rolls his eyes form the lack of support from his best friend.

“Why don’t I just do put on a _clown wig_ to complete the picture…”

“I don’t wanna hear anything about clowns from the guy in a dark purple, leopard print dress shirt,” Noctis fires back, savoring the first chuckle he utters aloud in _weeks_. “You look like you just got back from the _gay bar_ downtown,”

“Maybe I did, what did _you_ do with your time last night?!” Ignis coolly snaps back, Noctis swallowing a piece of toast whole before washing it down with half a cup of water.

“Read that _dumb ass_ thing for the Crownsguard swearing in…” Noctis pouts, leaning the chair back so it balanced off its hind legs. “Does it _really_ take as long as the old scrolls say?!”

“Four hours, Noct, hence my concern that you wear your uniform _right_ ,” he adds, gripping onto the skull-print shirt and pulling on it disapprovingly.

 “I mean, Luna’s not comin’ until Saturday…” Noctis mutters, thus having already personally decided to allow room for comfort in his appearance before his fiancé arrives to critique him. Gladio shrugs before grinning, the leather of his open shirt crunching as he brings his arms to clasp against the back of his head.

“Well I’m glad _you all_ can find some humor in all of this,”

“If you don’t, you’ll go insane around here…” Gladio sternly explains, Noctis nodding quickly, biting into a juicy, yellow apple. “Plus, like --- that Ardyn guy’s outfits are always the fucking worst things I’ve ever seen, so it’s not like I’m gonna be making fashion tsunamis in the paper…” Noctis gossips with raised eyebrows, Ignis collecting their dirty plates with a scoff and guilty smirk.

“You ought to watch your language, the Niflheim delegation could arrive at any moment for the ceremony,” Ignis attempts to lecture, though his shoulders heave in silent laughter at Noctis’ insult toward the flamboyantly dressed chancellor.

“I mean, maybe they _should_ hear it, ‘cause I don’t think any of the stylists in Gralea are saying anything…”

“Plus, Noct’s been on fire in training lately, if they pick a fight our boy’ll be ready for it,” Gladio praises, Noct smiling smally before angling his head down in shyness.

“You jest, but I’ve heard say from many of the High Council that they fear Niflheim may only be playing at peace for a chance to strike…”

“Oh Em Gee, Ig, it was a _joke_ , man…” Noct huffs,

“Joke time is over, Noct. Your swearing in and coronation ceremony mark a new era for you as King of Lucis,” Ignis direly warns, Noct sauntering toward the throne room, his head angled down at his phone’s screen. “These negotiations with Niflheim this weekend will prove serious and strenuous, even if things all go according to plan…”

“I know,” he whispers, pursing his lips. “I guess I’m gonna go find dad, talk to him about the swearing in…”

“A wise idea, Gladio and I will call for you when the new Guard arrives,” Ignis nods, plainly reading the prince’s quiet, introspective demeanor.

“Right,” Noctis agrees, standing around awkwardly in the brief silence that follows. “…’Kay, later…” he briefly raises a hand before leaving the room, Ignis staring up and the ceiling and sighing at Gladio, hands on his hips. “…a little bit of support would have been nice,”

“C’mon, it’s just a shirt, Iggy…” Gladio thumps a hand against the advisor’s chest, winding him slightly. “It’s plain as day he’s nervous about the Guard and the ceremony and the treaty negotiations, if wearing his military jacket open gets him through the weekend, then let him have it…”

“I just fear it’ll make a poor impression on the new soldier…” Ignis crosses his arms, eyes focused on the doors that lead to the throne room.

“Then what was your plan for when he opened his _mouth_?!” Gladio chuckles, Ignis reprimanding him by returning his thump from before with a smack against Gladio’s own chest. “He’s gotten way better with these kinds of things, but he’s still awkward little Noct…” Gladio sighs, Ignis slowly shaking his head in silence.

“C’mon, Ig…after this weekend, we’ll have a King on our hands who’ll be negotiating his way with Niflheim until he’s in his _own_ tomb, and then married on top of that in about a month,” Gladio disbelievingly realizes himself as Ignis rests his forehead in his hands. “He’ll have a lot bigger problems than his tacky outfit choices.”

* * *

 

“Argentum…” Cor’s gruff voice attempts to jar the sleeping blonde awake, whose lithe body is curled peacefully in the reclined passenger seat, Cor having draped his jacket around his figure for added warmth. “ _Argentum_!” he calls again, catching a flicker of motion from the corner of his right eye; Prompto sits up, blinking his barely open eyes as he tries to register his surroundings. Cor darts his eyes out the passenger window when Prompto makes contact with his own, the blonde twisting in his seat to follow their direction.

“We’re here.”

His blood rushes to his feet, draining the color from his face as he makes out the towering Citadel against the congested, metropolitan skyline of Insomnia. Were such a sight not enough, the building is flanked on all sides by the unmistakable behemoths that are Niflheim warships, the image mirroring that captured in the newspaper of Lestallum all that time ago.

 _“That Chancellor is probably there…”_ Prompto internally agonizes, subconsciously pulling down on the bandana that he ties around his wrist to conceal the barcode. Would he see Prompto’s return as an ample window to mock him once more, or reveal such shameful, devastating secrets to the royal family? He closes his eyes to steady his breathing, the sight of his home spreading worry and fear throughout every nerve ending in his body. How could he protect the royal family when it is Prompto himself who needs protection from the Chancellor who seemed to take an interest in _him_?

The question swirls menacingly in his mind, Prompto desperately trying to block such manipulative, destructive fears with the pleasant thought of being able to see his parents once more, who know nothing of his arrival. But such closeness to his parents serves only as a reminder that he is minutes away from Noctis and his company, from returning to the castle a man whose allegiance is permanently sworn, whose fealty is to be unquestioning, unwavering.

“Have you called Prince Noctis?” Cor questions, Prompto tearing his eyes away from the approaching skyline and just barely shaking his head. Cor had pulled over precisely three times throughout their lengthy road trip back to the crown city to allow Prompto the privacy to make the phone call.

He’d changed his number years ago, though he kept Noctis’ own number in his contacts, Ignis having promised he would not reveal his new number to the prince on the very rare occasion the two of them communicated. The third time he had actually managed to call the prince. He froze up at the sound of his irritated onslaught of _“Hello”,_ Noctis having clearly been disgruntled at the hushed silence on the other end. Cor had asked no questions when he came back to the car, slightly shaken, eyes glassy, breathing shallow.

He merely started the car, frowning as he pulled onto the main road once more.

Once or twice, he had sworn he caught glimpses of Umbra, who he had not seen in nearly a year. Once too, he had managed to unnerve the Marshall whilst at a rest stop, for he had distinctly seen the black-haired woman, who appeared to him from time to time. Cor had searched the entire vicinity of the near-abandoned gas station to locate the woman in case she needed help, returning puzzled and slightly creeped out when his search yielded nothing.

 _“I bet he can’t wait to get rid of me…”_ Prompto nervously muses as they pull up to the border, Cor skipping customs as he presses buttons upon a touch pad on the center console. A set of grates lower as they roll through, Cor’s eyes fixed determinedly forward.

“Straight to the castle then, right?”

Cor nods.

Prompto parts his lips in an effort to say something, but no words slip through. He glances out the window once again, the eerie ships floating silently, the sunny day completely undisturbed by the suggestive circumstances.

“I still have a hard time seeing a peace treaty outta all that…” Prompto whispers, Cor shifting his eyes to observe the blonde who sits slouched in his seat, chin in hand as he looks out the window. He merely raises his eyebrows before licking his lips, opting to saving his own suspicions for the King.

The air that filters in through the slightly cracked window is smoky and oppressive, Prompto gasping slightly as the change in altitude and air quality hits his respiratory system with a blunt _‘welcome back’_.

“Will I get a chance to see my family tonight?” Prompto wonders, slightly guilty that he had made no mention to them of his imminent return in the midst of his frazzled semester. Telling all the people he’d left behind just _what and why and how_ in person would only be harder than it would have been over the phone, but it is also what they all deserve.

“You are to undergo the initiation rite of the Crownsguard, followed by the Coronation Ceremony tonight. Thursday, further delegations from Niflheim shall arrive, with official talks commencing on Friday,”

Prompto scowls thoughtfully, not entirely certain what to determine from the tentative schedule.

“I haven’t been around Noct for so long, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be at these things all day…”

“You’ve accepted it, then…”

Prompto is confused by the cryptic response, letting out a soft _“hmm?”_ at Cor’s solemn statement.

“You’ve accepted your return to the Citadel?”

How could he _not_ , when the King and his senior most general specifically requested it? How could he _not_ , when the uncertainty of war threatened to terrorize the land his parents called home? How could he _not_ , when the even more ambiguously uncertain nature of just _who_ he is left him emotionally scarred and drained, barely living life? How could he _not_ , when the only hope he had of coming to know any further details regarding his past was by facing the Empire head on?

 _“How could I not, when returning meant seeing him again?”_ Prompto inwardly sighs, the part of him that still loves Noctis grateful for the opportunity that forces the prince into his life once more, even where the more rational Prompto that had managed to shut him out continues to resist.

Although the first month of training left Prompto waffling back and forth between his choice to return, the Marshall, in all of his years of military experience, had a point; even if he declined the offer to return, Prompto would only continue to worry and agonize over the above fears he attempts to quash all at once. The Citadel approaches ever closer, Prompto slinking into his seat as two men in the familiar Kingsglaive uniforms wave the car through, Cor waving at them in acknowledgement.

The older man sighs at he puts the car in park for the final time, leaning his head back over the headrest and relishing the day and a half long trip now over with. Even Prompto is so relieved by the road trip’s end that he exits the car and stretches, cracking his knees.

“Are you sure this outfit’s presentable?” Prompto suddenly wonders, the blonde wearing nothing but a form fitting, dark grey wife beater with the sigil of Bahamut on the breast (given to him by Cor), and tight, white skinny jeans.

“I’ve seen you at these functions with salami up your nose, Argentum,” Cor quips back, Prompto flushing red with embarrassment toward the distant memory; he silently hopes, even under all his nervousness that he had since left the Marshall with a better impression of himself. “Although I would suggest changing into a suit before this evening…”

“You – you have what little clothes I could bring in the car…” Prompto sheepishly reminds him, Cor shrugging. “You and Prince Noctis are far from strangers. I’m sure he will have clothing for you to borrow,”

“Maybe a few years ago…” Prompto grumbles under his breath, averting his gaze as they approach a set of Glaives.

“Please alert the Prince and his advisors that I have arrived with the final member of his Crownsguard,” he instructs a man who silently nods before parting the main set of doors, allowing them through. A wave of nostalgia hits the blonde, who looks around the unchanged Citadel with a glow that leaves him hot and anxious. Golden and red velvet banners adorn the walls commemorating Noctis’ coronation ceremony in long, celebratory strips. Flower arrangements garnish the walk ways tastefully to the same effect. The halls are filled with journalists and esteemed guests from all over the world _(“Lady Lunafreya will be arriving this weekend from Altissa in hopes of negotiating diplomatic immunity to continue her role as Oracle. She will return to Altissa to await her marriage to the Prince,” Cor explained)._

The whole entire space is crowded and muffled by chatter, the two of them pushing past well-dressed baronesses and counts. He is thankful to see no sign of Niflheim soldiers or dignitaries, though their looming ships about the Citadel’s perimeter speak much for their otherwise unnoticed presence.

“Good luck finding the Prince in this mess, Argentum --- I’m to go check in with His Majesty ---“

“ _W-wait_!” Prompto panics, drawing the brief attention of a grey-haired woman, who scowls at the brief interruption of her quiet conversation. “Can’t I come with you?!” Prompto is not yet ready to see the Prince, and certainly not on his own.

“Sorry, Argentum, orders are orders,” he claps a hand on Prompto’s sunburnt shoulder before wading his way through the crowd, leaving Prompto in his place among the sea of aristocrats. He chews on his bottom lip, for he is as confused and out of place two years later as he was the day he’d departed from such a decadent world.

* * *

 

“How do you intend to deal with the negotiations this weekend?” a woman whom Noctis had never seen in his life chirps shrilly at the prince, who gawks at her for a moment before Ignis leans subtly into his ear.

“You ought to explain to her that your father will be handling the negotiations as his last act under the Crown…”

His eyes follow the loops of her tightly bound grey curls, the forked wrinkles of her crow’s feet threatening to claw his own vision away they longer he stares at them.

“...Well, I’ll be there, but the signing ceremony will fall under my father’s jurisdiction,” Noctis attempts to inject as much interest as he can possibly fake into the conversation. He can feel the torture of being held hostage by such a prodding, self-important woman etching into his features as he furrows his brow and narrows his eyes, only barely stopping a groan from escaping.

“I should _hope_ so, such a _young_ boy has no right deciding the fate of us all within his first weekend as King,” she determines haughtily before turning her nose up and airily wandering away.

“I _really_ dunno if I can fake forty whole years of this, Iggy…” Noctis moans, throwing his head back and staring upward at the chandelier for patience.

“You best learn how to do so, the papers will catch on to your obvious distaste for the public before Monday…” he sneers, for Noctis makes a rude gesture at the back of the smug woman who now addresses one of his father’s Glaives.

“It’s not the _public_ I hate…” Noctis defends himself, crossing his arms, though nodding at a couple he admittedly does not recognize, who acknowledge him first with nods of their own. “It’s these stuffy diplomats and _duchesses_ and stuff…” he sniffs and creases his nose, the oppressive, musky mixture of expensive colognes choking the fresh air from the crowded ball room. The formal wear about the room is paired tastefully with glittering diamonds and shimmering pearls. Noctis himself had exchanged his butchered Crownsguard fatigues for his customary raiment (as per Ignis’ vehement insistence), his hip cocked sassily to the side, body language less than inviting.

Prompto’s innocent fascination with the prestige customary to the gatherings of the upper echelon of society had never overshadowed his fun loving, civilian spirit. The two had spent many a gala and ball and ceremony running about the halls together, generally impressing upon the nobles that the Son of Lucis was hardly ready for such a dire title. Much had changed without the blonde’s influence, however. Noctis’ admittedly carefree and rather childish method of partaking in such festivities had since transformed into calm, even tempered, yet very moody, judgmental disdain.

Were it not for Ignis’ real time social coaching, Noctis would have assuredly ended up in the _Galahd Gazette_ once again.

“I just kinda wanna skip to the part where I’m crowned, and we can all cast magic and summon our weapons,” he leans against a table, unceremoniously shoving a handful of water crackers and brie cheese into his mouth.

“ _Hopefully_ such powers never come in handy for you…” Ignis whispers, both of them turning to face the out of breath Gladio that approaches them, pushing his way through the vibrant crowd.

“Noct ---“ he gasps, flinging sweat from his brow, panting nearly as hard as he tends to after a training session.

“’Sup with you, big guy?” Noctis jokes, grinning at his state of discomposure.

“Listen – I know this is gonna sound crazy –“ he holds up his hands, face glistening ever so slightly with sweat. “But I’m pretty sure I just saw Prompto, Noct –“

The black haired man tenses momentarily, the name of his best friend spoken aloud rooting him in place as if it were a hex. Ignis blinks rapidly, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the corner of his purple, leopard print dress shirt.

“Come again, Gladio?!”

Noctis is grateful Ignis has the ability to pose the question where he personally does not, his senses electrified at the thought, his jaw tensed as he awaits further details.

“I’m pretty sure I saw him, you guys ---“

 _“Where?!”_ Noctis growls, brow furrowed as he leans forward, blatantly holding out an arm to stop a couple from engaging him in conversation.

“I know I saw Cor --- said he was off to see your father --- I asked him about the Crownsguard member and where they were, but Cor was already gone ---“

 _“Where is he, Gladio?!”_ Noctis does not care if Gladio is delirious, if he himself is delirious; if even the chance of the blonde being at the Citadel exists, he wishes to take it to find the blonde he had not heard or seen from in so very, _very_ long ---

“I saw him headed toward the gardens --- _hey, you better watch it, now_!” Gladio snarls, for Noctis pushes him out of the way before headed straight to the gardens with no other lead or certainty other than his own desperation. “Noct, if Cor has returned, that means so too, has the new Crownsguard! Get back here at once! _Noccctt_!” Ignis calls after him, though he makes no effort to run after him, for it would have been entirely futile. The two men watch as Noctis gradually picks up his pace, disappearing into the crowd himself.

“What if it was just a trick of the light, or golden jewelry gleaming off the crystal of the chandelier?” Ignis attempts to debunk his claim. “Prompto is all but out of our lives in Lestallum, Gladio ---“

“I know _that_ Chocobo haircut, I _know_ that face,” Gladio grunts, Ignis folding his arms and shaking his head disbelievingly. “But for what purpose would he suddenly return, without a _word_ to anyone?!”

“I dunno, but when I thought I saw him, I thought _long_ and hard about whether or not I was gonna come here and tell you guys…”

“You seem as if you ran as fast as you could,” Ignis cocks an eyebrow. “Well, long and hard relative to the forty or so seconds between seeing him and reaching you guys,” Gladio amends his statement, grinning slightly as his breath returns to him.

“Shall we follow him?”

“I imagine if Prompto really _is_ here, we’ll detect Noct’s freak out from a mile away…”

“He’s done _awfully_ well the last few months --- you know, not taking his absence so personally…” Ignis takes a sip of the martini he plucks off a tray, Gladio looking off toward the direction in which Noctis departed.

“We’ll see if his progress gets undone or not…” he raises his eyebrows, whilst Noctis, on the other hand, does not slow his sprint until he reaches the considerably less full, yet still populated gardens.

 _“Prompto!”_ he croaks, his voice cracking from the dryness of his short breath in his throat. He scans the faces of every guest, who elicit from him his undivided attention, where before he had done all he could to reject their eye contact. Each face that clearly does not belong to Prompto is a profound pang of disappointment, of shame of even hoping, _longing_ to see him again, where he had only just managed to eliminate thoughts of him from his mind, heart, his wishes and _dreams_ \---

“He’s gone, you idiot…” Noctis hisses at himself, massaging his temple as if the act washed thoughts of the blonde away.

Perhaps Gladio had misunderstood it all, or got it all wrong, as Ignis had initially assumed. The prince is left entirely crestfallen as his panicked search yields no results. He stands in the garden, lightheaded and furious with Gladio for raises his long forgotten hopes, furious with Prompto for the entire ordeal, and furious with _himself_ for still having within him the desire to believe.

“Why do I even --- “ Noctis curses once more, though his self-reflection is cut short.

A strange brushing weaves in between his legs where he stands, Noctis opening his eyes quickly to see Umbra at his feet. He flashes him a strained, heavy smile before bending down, scratching the dog behind his ears. He’d written Luna the night before, expressing his disappointment at her inability to make it to his crowning that evening. He searches for the notebook, but Umbra barks softly in the Prince’s ear, the young man looking into the dog’s eyes; he intends to deliver another type of message.

The dog trots away into an alternating thicket of rosebuds and sprouting chrysanthemums, a breeze picking up in his ears as he is filled with an inspiration to follow the dog. The cloak upon his shoulders flutters behind him, and Noctis jogs behind Umbra with such enthusiasm that he can feel the heels of his dress shoes catch loose, compacted mud with each step he takes.

He stomps through the thicket, nearly destroying the entire livelihood of the royal landscapers as he tears his way through the flowering plants. Umbra shoots up the path on the other side of the thorny maze, even more sparesly populated than the other side. Noctis strides diligently on his trail, everything a blur as his heart races to keep up with the body that pushes forward ---

The wind is knocked from Noctis’ heaving, slightly sweaty chest as he collides against the frame of a guest. He staggers as he tries to catch his balance, rubbing his head and cursing his vision as it splits into sixty fourths.

“Sorry – _sorry_ – the dog – “ he stammers, knowing that his father or Ignis would scold him for his carelessness of bumping into some esteemed confidant or another. His hand eases the throbbing pain in his forehead, the black haired man opening his eyes as he extends the other to the one he knocked over. The pain is easily forgotten as he registers the blonde who takes it, wincing himself. The handful of seconds between their collision and them recognizing the other are tense eternities. Prompto sways slightly as he regains his footing, his eyes emotionally lidded, his lips slightly parted in nervous fear. Noctis stays shocked, tensed, and wide-eyed, drinking in the sight of the blonde before him, equally silent.

He steps forward toward him, as unable to speak as Prompto is himself. The blonde’s lip quivers as he brings a hand to grip his bicep anxiously.

 _“Not a single one of the damn dreams prepared me for this scenario…”_ Noctis’ inner monologue ironically curses, his attempt to speak only a softly uttered, shuddering gasp. His dreams had always ended in kissing him, yet his body does not even allow him to move, breathe, blink or speak – all he can do, like in all of these unlikely scenarios, is wait for the waking jolt to reality once more. Noctis cannot say for sure, as yet another silent sharing of seconds pass, Umbra between them, if he’d rather it were a dream after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. let's just say this chapter was necessary and that i'll have a lot more fun writing their reunion!
> 
> also I totally rewrote the old versus trailer just with prom in noct's spot lmao
> 
> i have to say my favorite accomplishment is tricking everyone to read a 150k word slash fanfic with no smut in it!!  
> there will be some soon given the nature of their reunion but i am warning you now i am BAD AT IT


	24. Against Orthodoxy

Once his ability to process the information his senses send to his brain returns, the first thing Noctis notices about Prompto is how wordly he looks. Before, his long, shaggy hair had swooped down on his face as a tidal wave of bangs, crashing youthfully against his forehead and eyes. Now it is cut into alternating layers he meticulously spikes up, the hairstyle itself trendy, yet hard to maintain, Noctis would guess. His once cheerful face is thinner, his skin incredibly fair, even given the sun and heat of Lestallum. His blue eyes are intense and deep, as if since troubled by the things he has seen.

The Prompto of high school who wore his tie undone and his buttons mismatched seems to have learned how to dress. His dark grey wife beater is covered by a tightly fitted green cardigan that ends at his waist, everything perfectly fitted, tailored, and wrinkle free. Art school had the reputation of leaving its students more fashionably conscious than the general population, but he could easily imagine the blonde before him on the runways of Altissa, and not merely as the photographer. He quietly breathes through his mouth. His brain gasps for steady breaths, and Noctis is left lightheaded and dizzy.

 _“He looks so…grown up …”_ the prince muses, the two of them still completely silent. It was only natural that the prodigal Prompto of his dreams reflected the outdated look from high school; where the blonde had never sent him pictures of himself, or maintained any other sort of visual correspondence, how was Noctis to know he would change, even if not so drastically, but so dramatically?

The once clumsy and uncoordinated hands are curled against his waist, dirty and rough with callouses and cuts. His clothes mimic the styles of those beyond the wall – colorful and bright, compared to the dreary greys and black and whites of Insomnia. His pout leaves his once optimistic and always cheerful features melancholy and deflated. Yet it is his sadness that contributes to the dreamy, handsome air that surrounds him like an irresistible fragrance, one that chokes Noctis, thick in his throat and lungs.

How much of the world had Prompto seen, Noctis wonders, while he was stuck behind his father’s wall, wallowing in his same familiar monotony? How much had Prompto changed and grown, his presence formed of strengthening trials and emotional hurdles? Whilst Noctis still struggles to stand on his own two feet before a world that forces him to dance? A dance, Noctis shamefully admits, he has been practicing for years, but still fails to execute with any real grace. How must he look, in the same raiment traditions required of him, reciting the same cants in the same castle, the same staff curing the same gardens?

Prompto stands so guarded and uncertain, and Noctis furrows his brow in confusion, unable to understand under what pretense the blonde feels it is necessary to shield himself away from the prince with whom he once shared such a close bond. His eyes are diagonally focused on the ground. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, silently fiending for the cure to his anxiety. He still refuses to make eye contact with the man who cannot do anything but stare in return.

 _“Hello?!”_ Noctis snaps out loud, growing angry at the silence they share after having already been through two years of it. Prompto jumps, straightening up and blinking rapidly, his lips parting slightly as he looks the prince head on. The weight of time has shaped Noctis in greater ways than he realizes. His self-pitying moodiness from high school has transformed into a quiet, resentful anger; toward his legacy, his fate, toward _Prompto_. The blonde can read it as it gradually corrupts Noctis’ own grey eyes, the shock stealing the brightness away, lidded instead by compounding anger. He clenches his teeth, his breath hissing.

 _“Say something, dammit!”_ Noctis’ voice shakes. His fantasies and wishes of reuniting with Prompto had been much kinder, softer, pleasant. His dream the night before had involved the very same man before him showing up at his ceremony without warning --- why thus is it that, now Noctis has what he’s desired for so long, he is nearly disgusted by the granting wish?

 _“What are you doing here?! Where have you been?!”_ Noctis’ body matches his voice in the way he trembles, Prompto stepping forward to place his hands on his body to calm him down.

 _“Don’t touch me!”_ Noctis jerks back from the man, feeling little remorse over the wave of hurt that reflects in his once best friend’s soft features. Prompto slowly lowers his hands, his eyes lowering to the ground in shame. Noctis is glad to see the sadness, in fact, to be able to personally confirm that he hurts Prompto as much as he had him. “Is this your way of making up for two years of not speaking to me?! Just _showing up_ out of nowhere and standing there with that stupid look on your face?!” Noctis sharp words make it very clear to the blonde he is entirely unforgiven.

The wind blows, soft and warm and wet, breezy raspberries against their tensed jaws.  The noise temporarily mutes the one-sided argument. The gardens on the other side of the roses are still deserted, Umbra watching them both quietly. Prompto swallows a shivering sigh; he cannot say he is surprised by Noctis’ reaction to his sudden return. Though while he is just as confused and anxious about what the future holds for them both, he cannot say he harbors any anger toward the Prince – he cannot say anything _at all_ , in fact.

“So what’s up then, you here for spring break or something?” Noctis spits, folding his arms as Prompto lifts his head to speak. Even when they argued as friends in high school, the two expressed their anger in very different ways. Noctis’ face was always aggressive, lips curled, teeth clenched, eyebrows and forehead wrinkled. Yet Prompto had always been calm and quiet, the fierier of the emotions never leaving ripples upon his face. His eyes would grow weary and distrusting, slightly lidded. His voice would drop to a barely audible state, something the usually overexcited man surprises even himself with. “Just _passing through town_ to check out, I dunno, that _one dude you_ used to _actually_ talk to before you go back to your college parties in Lestallum?”

“What are you even talking about?” Prompto croaks, as predictable in his arguing tactics as Noctis proves to still be.

“So where’re they at?!” Noctis questions rather hysterically, and Prompto narrows his eyes and shrugs in confusion.

“Who, Noctis?!”

“The friends in Lestallum that you must like _way_ better than me, since they got you to completely cut me out! What, were you _so bored_ with tradition that comes from being best friends with a _Prince_ , that once you found your party animal friends, you never looked back?!”

 “Are you serious?! You’re acting like this because you think I have other _friends_?” he masks his disbelief with a scathing, almost acidic tone. He wonders if the furious prince remembers their inseparability, their soft, shared laughter, the hours spent in his bed, the few, but very _real_ and confusing kisses they had shared…

Unlike what his visions had always dreamt, the last thing Noctis wants to do is _kiss_ the blonde before him. There is much to be said of the itchy, smothering, gut-wrenching feeling that Noctis had only his usual company to keep, mourning Prompto so deeply, whilst the blonde himself traipsed about with new people that left Noctis all but forgotten. However, his ears do begin to burn from the admitted silliness of his jealousy, Prompto’s simplification of his accusations sounding somewhat less credible when thrown back at him.

“I mean, what else could have kept you away from me all this time?! You get to Lestallum, you realize, _‘oh, well all these dudes have chicks and drugs’_ ”

“Noctis ---“ Prompto rolls his eyes, shoulders heaving softly from a chuckle of disbelief.

“I’m acting like this because you think you can just treat me how you want, and then think you can come back to a twenty one gun salute when you finally decide to show up again!” Noctis lifts his arms to gesture at Prompto, who drops his own folded ones and places his hands on his hips.

“I don’t think _anything_ , dude, I _just_ got here –!”

“Well you seem to think you can just _leave_ without saying anything to any of us, and then come back the same way?! You really think I’m just gonna stand here and not call you the hell out?!” Noctis rolls his eyes, scoffing in disbelief before wasting no further time in continuing his rant. “I’ve heard nothing from you, _nothing_ , in _two years_ , Prompto!” his voice is husky, growling, Noctis’ shoulders tensed as he subconsciously sways forward toward the one he addresses. Prompto steels his body as well, his nervousness unsuccessful in preventing him from meeting the prince’s physical challenge.

“And now _here you are_ –“ Noctis tauntingly sneers.

“ _Noctis_ –“

“You _changed_ your number –“

 “Noctis…” Prompto tries to interrupt again, his gentler approach having never been a match against the prince’s rants.

“You made sure to never let me have your address – “ Noctis shakes his head, the listing of his grievances not helping to simmer his mood.

“Noctis...”

“You forgot your _best friend_ , like he was nothing!”

“And do you think any of this was easy for _me_?!” Prompto immediately questions, leaning forward and throwing his arms in the air. Noctis’ increasingly accusatory statements revive his ability to defend himself. “My own parents don’t even know I’m back in town, Noctis, do you think I just went off and partied in Lestallum for two years?! You don’t even know -- ” Prompto smirks again, scoffing before shaking his head, looking the prince up and down incredulously. “You have no idea what happened to me, what I’ve been through -- !”

“I dunno, Prompto, what _did_ you do?!” Noctis spits, narrowing his eyes. “Because the dozens of fucking letters I sent that got returned, the calls that went to a deactivated number – the _only_ number I had for you, by the way – and your parents not really giving me much to go off, it all kinda left me in the dark, _funny_ right?!”

“ _Right_ \-- poor you, right, Noctis?!” Prompto shakes his head slowly from disbelief, but Noctis steps forward once more.

“How the hell am I supposed to know how you feel or think?! You never talked to me!” Noctis sarcastically snaps, for the memories of the physical letters he had written to the blonde with no return address and the unanswered texts leave him with a desire to hit Prompto that, even with all the resentment toward him in the world, he would rather leave unfulfilled.

“You keep asking me questions, but I don’t think you want answers,” Prompto evenly replies, his tongue slipping through his thinned lips. He crosses his arms at his chest again, cocking his leg.

“I wanna know how you claim to be my best friend, but you don’t even ask how I’m doing, how things are going for me –“ Noctis whines in a completely self-centered tirade.

“ _You, you, you,_ right Noctis?! If you’d stop and listen, you’d know why I was here – and just like everything else in Lucis, it has something to do with you,” Prompto fires back. “I know years of being the _Prince of Lucis_ don’t really leave you needing to not be a selfish prick –“

“The Prick of a _Prince of Lucis_ is going to be your King in a few hours, so I suggest you watch your mouth,” Noctis sassily retorts, the two of them staring at the other, eyes narrowed, chests rising with their rapid breaths. Prompto, who is usually so inoffensive and non-aggressive toward the black-haired man in their arguments, seethes with just as much of a resistance to punch Noctis as the other does him. Umbra weaves his way in between their legs, though neither of the two men acknowledge the dog they are usually very friendly towards.

The sound of footsteps approaching is the only thing that breaks their fuming gazes, an order of Glaives approaching them both, upright and straight backed. The two continue to keep their eyes on one another, unperturbed by the entourage growing ever closer.

“Forgive us for our intrusion of your conversation…” a Glaive starts before bowing low. Noctis scowls as Prompto utters a single, sarcastic snicker, folding his arms.

“Your father is requesting you in the throne room, Your Highness,” he continues to solemnly inform him, clearly uninterested in whatever youthful spat plays out before the dignified group of men. It was the job of the Glaive to remain as composed as possible, so as to maintain focus on the royal task at hand, Prompto remembers.

None of the men take notice of him – news of Prompto’s assumption of the title of Crownsguard must thus go ultimately unknown to all throughout the castle. Noctis’ brow furrows in thought over what Regis could want.

“Is dad alright?” he asks with soft worry, Prompto listening in intently and hoping that no ill had befallen the man who had always been so kind to him and his family.

“His Majesty is fine, he merely wishes to impart a message on you before tonight…”

“Right, I’ll be right there…” Noctis nods, making a point to turn away from Prompto without another word.

“Should I even bother finding you afterward, Noctis? Or would you rather I just fuck off now and _really_ save the goodbyes this time?” Prompto folds his arms, blinking back tears, now that their argument decrescendos. Noctis turns around, mouth opened to respond immediately, but he is cut off by the stinging burn of tears in his own eyes, thus leaving Prompto behind without another word.

* * *

 

Regis sits cross-legged at his throne, the ever weakening muscles in his thighs and legs losing tautness after hours of immobility. He feels the firmness of his muscles as they lose their strength, each fiber unraveling like old fabric, thread by thread. He drums his fingers against the etched stone of the throne’s arms in even patience as he awaits his son’s arrival. The small _clink_ of the Ring of the Lucii every time it collides against the stone is a syncopated, unnerving chime, ringing ominously in his ears. He closes his wrinkled eyes as the compacted and swiftly-travelling rain clouds of March reveal the white, watery Sun behind them, the throne room suddenly illuminated with a warm light.

Cor times the shift of his stance with Regis’ exhalation, the two organic sounds complimentary in their synchronization.

“Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?” Cor frowns, his hands clasped against his lower torso, the man staring straight ahead at the closed throne room door. Regis grunts as he swings his leg, so the opposite one rests atop the pins-and-needles plagued other.

“The one decision I can make with certainty is the only one not brought forth to me in a most ominous dream, funnily enough…” Regis’s chuckle is the last noise uttered in the throne room for some while – yet it takes his laughter a few seconds’ time to finish their hollow echo across the dark grey, waxed walls. The fact that only mere hours of his reign are left, counting down and dwindling, leaves him quite tranquil. His ruling years are to be greatly remembered; a time of peace, prosperity, a fixed economy, in which even the lowest class Insomnians have the greatest of modern conveniences technology has to offer…

Where his waves are calm, crashing onto the banks of feebleness, he cannot help but see the tsunami that awaits his son, threatening to swallow the entire world whole as it all comes crashing down at once. Although Regis will continue to act as King until after the signing ceremony with Niflheim, it still counts as his son’s first political act under the same title.

It is an act he believes will leave the people and the Kingdom of Lucis entirely upended and disenfranchised, destroyed and ravaged before the unopposed Empire. It is one that he fears will threaten the safety of the Oracle, whom he reluctantly agrees to the brought to the Citadel, to avoid raising suspicion. It is one he believes is not meant to leave the Line of Lucis alive. The pompous ceremonies and superficial, political distances, the one-sided, fragile treaties are all for a show that leaves the King (no matter how little time he has left) unimpressed.

“It is my strongest belief that sending my son and his friends away from the city before the treaty is the only chance they -- this Kingdom -- _the people of Eos_ \-- have of survival,”

When Cor had first been briefed on Regis’ far-reaching proposal nearly two months ago, it had been the first time in all of his years of service to the man that he’d doubted his judgment.

 _“You would allow Noctis to ascend the throne on the Eve of the Ceremony? You would then send the rightful King and his men out of the Kingdom on that very same Eve? You would have me leave your side for weeks to bring the inexperienced, goof of a friend to serve as his protector, all based upon the dreams of lazy Gods and their cruel games?!”_ Cor had insubordinately questioned, Regis only having studied him with a soft, gentle smile.

“I’m not asking you to understand, Cor, I am asking you to merely place your faith in me…” Regis can sense the very same questions course through the mind of the other, the electric buzzing of his racing thoughts nearly traceable in the muggy air. “You are to see them out of the city tomorrow afternoon, and leave them to consult with Monica – you will not return to the Kingdom of Lucis, no matter what news reaches your ears, be they truthful or mere rumor -- do I have your word you will do this, Leonis?” Regis grips the rounded ends of the throne’s arms, having known Cor long enough that the downward movement out of the corner of his eye is Cor’s nod of agreement, his biological signature in place of verbal contracts.

“I thank you for all you have done for me, your years of service, your loyalty…” Regis wearily shifts, Cor twisting his head to look down at the King.

“You speak as if this is all certain, in stone – as if we do not have time left…”

“Considering my son’s ascension and wedding was to transpire two years ago, my good friend…” Regis whispers as Glaives part the throne room doors on the other side, Noctis at the head of the party slowly taking the steps before him. “…I believe our borrowed time may be indeed running out,”

Noctis wears the emotional distress of his argument with Prompto plainly upon his face. His eyes stay fixed upon his shined, pointed dress shoes, the light cloak on his shoulders swinging weightily as stress tenses his lithe shoulders. The gold ornaments and clasps and chains glimmer in the sunlight, marking him as the brightest and most precious jewel Regis would ever cherish in his lifetime. His son had come a long way.

Although there is still much to be said of his regal growth, he finds Noctis complains and resists less ( _“Only because I get the entire earful, before and afterward…”_ Ignis had confided in him not too long ago), though he still lacked the confidence most befitting to uphold such powerful ancestry. Whatever concerns Noctis had regarding the blatant decline of his father’s health, he’d since kept hidden, saving those tears too, for the privacy of the apartment he still (barely, and even then, only because of Ignis) maintains.

Even were it not for Regis’ suspicion of his upcoming assassination at the hands of Niflheim, he knows fate all too well to not sense that it will be coming to collect Regis before year’s end. The Prince-who-becomes-King, inheriting royal problems and weights and responsibilities, his _son_ , fears that very same friendship with such a soulless force.

“Sending him and his Glaives away will do what, Your Highness? Are you not risking the entire Kingdom with such a move?” Cor asks with finality, sure to muffle his voice under the sound of the approaching men.

“It shall see to it my son can survive the onslaught to come back and reclaim his throne,” Regis responsibly utters with such believability, the small voice in his head that says, _“So I can know for certain my son to be safe,”_ is completely overshadowed.

Noctis bows as he reaches the top of the steps, Regis holding out a hand and hoisting himself from the chair.

“Never are you to bow again, Noctis,” Regis solemnly commands. His frailty shows no signs of itself as he lowers himself to one knee before his son, bowing his head, the Glaives and Cor doing the same. “Your Majesty…” he adds, Noctis’ eyes widening.

“I won’t be King for a few more hours, dad…” Noctis sheepishly grins, never having liked the circumstance that came with his title. He awkwardly bows before his father as well, Regis clasping a hand upon the shoulder of his beloved son.

“I am afraid I let time get ahead of me sometimes…” Regis grins, though Noctis can read the sadness in his eyes, and the prince’s own cannot help but fill with the same emotion. “Such conversations can wait! I know your day is busy, and I will not add to it with wasted moments,”

“You’re not a waste of time, dad…” Noctis softly assures him, Regis gripping the shoulder he clasps.

“Let us not lose ourselves in maudlin nonsense – I have summoned you to impart on you a couple of very important details regarding your first days in office,” Regis explains, kindly but confidently. Cor watches the scene, stoic as always, though internally surprised with how the King manages to excitedly pitch such a difficult situation to the young man.

“The first is regarding a certain young man,” Regis starts, Noctis’s breath catching as his stomach jolting causes him to inhale sharply.

“I suppose I needn’t tell you the news?” Regis questions, Noctis awkwardly shifting.

“No, I – I saw him…” Noctis whispers back, turning his head to hide his flushing cheeks.

“ _And?_ ” Regis asks, taken aback by his son’s anti-climactic shrug at the arrival of his best friend.

“It’s _complicated_ , I guess…” Noctis nervously explains, not wanting to burden his father with details of his unrequited jealousy, hurt, and love.

“Well, I suppose you should know he arrived with Cor not too long ago…” Regis continues, somewhat confused by the look of contemplation that takes over Noctis’ features. The Prince had smothered Prompto in furious accusations, stifling his ability to explain the nature of his return. Thus the explanations his father offers up intrigues him indeed, though not enough to steal away his anger at his abrupt reappearance.

“What for?” Noctis attempts to ask coolly, folding his arms and growing slightly heated at the thought of Prompto once more.

“Prompto will be joining your Crownsguard,” Cor pipes from Regis’ side, Noctis’ mouth parting widely from shock.

 _“What?”_ he disbelievingly poses the two men, his brow furrowing as he darts his gaze between them. “How come no one said anything to me?!” Noctis growls, heart racing.

“He explicitly asked us to keep the news confidential – he wished to tell you himself,” Cor explains, Noctis blinking rapidly; he had been wearing the tank top of the Crownsguard, after all…

“Well he sure as hell didn’t say anything in the realm of _that_ kinda bombshell, either today, or at all…” Noctis darkly mumbles, his heart thumping in his throat.

“I hope the news does not strike you as unpleasant?” Regis raises an eyebrow – perhaps Bahamut’s vision of Noctis’ life without Prompto held little validity in reality.

“I – “ Noctis stutters. _Unpleasant_ is the wrong word. It is neither unpleasant to see Prompto, nor is it _unpleasant_ to hear that, should he truly seek to be his Crownsguard, he would be around once more. It is jarring and discombobulating – Noctis had gotten so used to life without him (such a life is what is _unpleasant_ , rather). While it had never gotten better, it has certainly gotten _easier_ to parse the somber rhythm of a life that lacked his favorite person in the world.

 _‘How do you just let someone back in, after so much time learning how to lock them out?!’_ Noctis longingly wonders, rubbing his forehead with the arch of his thumb and index finger. Did Prompto himself even want to return? He’d seemed to have a much easier time severing himself from their relationship than Noctis.

“What were the circumstances of him coming back?” Noctis inhales and stands up straight, asking the question of his father in his most dignified, graceful tone. Why would Prompto decide to return after two years of being fixed in his resolve?

Cor can see the flash of unexpected nervousness in Regis’ eyes; he cannot simply say his nightmares had inspired him to send Cor to fetch him, leaving the blonde little choice.

“I suspect such an intimate conversation is best saved between the two of you…” Regis saves, looking his son firmly in the eyes.

Noctis is not even certain he is able to maintain eye contact with Prompto, let alone speak with him in a way that implies he no longer feels personally affronted by Prompto’s deliberate silence. The Crownsguard initiation rite takes place in two hours’ time, however, thus Noctis sighs, folding his arms; he would have to confront him again, no matter how much he dreads it.

“I will abide by my own advice and thus move forward, for even greater news is the following, Noctis: Your first great undertaking, as King of such a wonderful realm, is to alight to Altissa, where you are to meet Lady Lunafreya and wed her,”

Noctis’ furrows his brow, repeating the words of his father in his head in an attempt to dissect the message for a clearer understanding.

“Wait, so…” Noctis drawls, scratching his chin and angling his vision upward toward the ceiling thoughtfully. “My first act as King is…” he stalls, his tongue ghosting slightly across his lips. “To – to go on a _roadtrip bachelor party_?!”

“I suppose you could simple it down to such terms,” Regis nods, Cor hiding his own confusion in agreement with Noctis behind his piercing, solid stare ahead.

“So, uh…” Noctis starts again, positively bright red and rather stunned with the wave of news. Between reuniting with Prompto and gallivanting away to marry Luna, he rather would take the bureaucracy and political discourse of the treaty signing above such acutely uncomfortable interactions with the two.

“How…am I getting there?” Noctis tries to keep his voice even, and not as rapid as his heartbeat.

“Cor shall escort you with your Glaives to the Insomnian border tomorrow before the arrival of the Chancellor and his men. I give you my Regalia for this mission – “

“The Regalia?! But – but dad – “ were Noctis not completely confused or overwhelmed, he would be much more forthcoming with his gratitude and excitement.

“That’s awesome, but like – what’re we supposed to _do_?!” to Noctis’ surprise, and to his anger somewhat even, Regis chuckles, his hazel eyes glittering in the sunny warmth of the room. “Has Ignis really clipped your wings so short, that a twenty year old cannot think of a _single_ thing to do whilst unsupervised with his four friends, a luxury car, and hundreds of miles between his home and his bride-to-be in Altissa?”

Noctis does not like the answer he receives; it makes little sense to him to be crowned King, only to depart the next day for an adventure of careless hijinks with no formal expiration date – particularly on the eve of forging one of the most important alliances in the history of his kingdom.

“I mean, I suppose I am _glad_ that the rising King does not instantly swipe the keys from my hand with a million ideas in his head,” Regis nods. “It is a political play indeed, Noctis. I am proud of you for understanding that nothing we do as royals is without some sort of diplomatic consequence toward our people. The news of our securing peace, and news of your road trip to pick up the Oracle, marry her, and bring her back to Lucis as Queen, will do even more for our already skyrocketing approval ratings,”

“Think of it as you peacocking your union before the Kingdom,” Cor offers, Noctis nodding slowly; it is _far_ from his style, but an assignment he has no choice but to accept.

“I suggest you stop in each city – I want you to use your road trip as a dual excuse to see the world, before you begin to bargain with The Six over its fate,” Regis adds a bit more formally, Noctis nodding before his father.

“Iggy and Gladio’ll be coming with me right?! And – and _Prompto_ …?” he questions softly, uncertain whether he wants to hear the negative or affirmative from Regis. He clears his throat when Regis nods, a Glaive behind him stepping forward.

“If I may, Your Majesty – only two hours remain between the present hour and the start of the initiation…”

“Yes, indeed…Noctis, I am afraid I must save any further words I have for you for your ball this evening – only two hours remain of your life as a prince, I suppose I should allow you to go prepare them for a proper sending…”

“Right…see you guys in a bit, then…” Noctis nods, holding up a hand at Cor. He stalks down the long hall, attempting to appear confident, though his father knows him all too well to not notice the stiffness in his stride. His eyes follow the party all the way toward the double doors that separate the audience room from the rest of the Citadel.

“…I promise your role as courier is almost up,” Regis starts a few seconds after Noctis’ departure. “…but if I may ask you to fetch me Mr. Argentum next?”

* * *

 

“We truly are elated to see you again, Prompto, _truly_ …” Ignis brings his teacup to his lips, taking a loud, slurping sip before placing it back down on the saucer. Prompto grins, scratching behind his neck and looking down at his feet. The three of them sit at a small, white, metal garden table. Ignis’ ankle rests atop the kneecap of the other, and Gladio leans back in his lawn chair, settling in the sun.

“I almost couldn’t believe it when I thought I saw you…”Gladio adds, clapping Prompto’s thigh. “Glad I said somehtin’!”

“As happy as I am to see you guys, I gotta say it’s kinda weird being back,” Prompto massively understates, bringing his latte made especially for him in the kitchens to his lips. The last time he sat together with Ignis and Gladio, he thought then, too, that he would be a Glaive. The elation of graduation and his kisses with Noctis had kept his spirits so weightless and high, he would have assumed _nothing_ could bring them down. The world then seemed brighter, easier, more friendly and welcoming and predictable.

“I can’t believe how good you look, blondie, you been workin’ out?!” Gladio admires the defined biceps left exposed by the cotton, dark grey undershirt he wears, his cardigan draped over the back of his chair. He misses the few days between graduation and his leave for Lestallum, even where he tries his best not to admit it.

“Pfft – no, there’s just a ton of hills in Lestallum,” Prompto humbly deflects, thankful for his two friends before him. Their reactions upon seeing Prompto had been exponentially more pleasant than the prince’s – even if understandably so. They’d both gripped him in disbelieving embraces before instantly sitting down at the table to catch up. While the discomfort of the greater situation still had yet to subside, Prompto finds it easy to relax into his conversation with Ignis and Gladio, even if only temporarily.

“I’m _really_ havin’ a hard time believin’ Noct isn’t in your face right now…”

“Uhhh, let’s just say that he wasn’t as happy to see me as you guys are,” Prompto scoffs, grinning sadly as he scoops foam from the bottom of his cup with his finger. “Plus he left to some meeting or something…”

“ _Noct_ wasn’t happy to see you?!” Ignis repeats, leaning forward and pressing his glasses against the bridge of his nose. He exchanges a look of surprise with Gladio, both sets of eyebrows raised.

“After all the moping he’s done,” Gladio mumbles to himself, Ignis nodding in agreement.

“Noctis truly has been beside himself with grief over your continued silence, we find it quite surprising he wasn’t much more positive about your unannounced visit…”

“I – I mean – “ Prompto shamefully stammers, looking up from his cup at the two men, cheeks burning. “I – _I’m sorry_ …”

“No need to apologize, I stand by what I’ve said to you many times over the last two years; I respect your need for privacy and support your distance in an effort to allow both yourself and the prince to grow,”

“Yeah, everyone has those times where they need to get away from it all to get their bearings straight,” Gladio adds, Prompto smiling beside himself.

“Thanks, guys, really…” he whispers, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the carafe. “It wasn’t anything against _you_ , or – or _him_ –“

“Noct, I imagine, did not have an easy time realizing this, however…” Ignis solemnly predicts, his assumption as accurate as ever.

“He didn’t even let me explain what it is I’m doing back here in the first place…”

“Noct is a difficult soul, but I imagine he’ll come around. Doesn’t help that you’re coming at such a busy time for him _anyway_ …” Gladio assures him, but Ignis, who frowns slightly, does not seem interested in discussing Noctis’ perspective any further.

“So what _is_ the nature of your return?!” he bluntly asks, Prompto blanching. “I hope you do not take my question as forward,”

 “Well...” Prompto nervously starts, placing his cup down upon the glass of the table. “Okay -- Do you remember that day I texted you about the ships?!” Prompto starts from the beginning, Ignis nodding, listening intently. “Well, I got into a lot of trouble up there, not long after that with – with some of the soldiers, and – and some _Daemons_ – “

“Holy shit, Prompto --!”

“Good lord, Prompto!” the two men cry in unison, Ignis’ eyes wide, Gladio’s narrowed with empathy.

“Do you know how bloody lucky you are to be alive?!” Ignis scolds, Prompto nodding quickly.

“Luck doesn’t even begin to describe it, man – I only survived ‘cause – ‘cause Cor –“

“Cor?!”

“It’s gonna sound crazy, guys, but he saved my ass. He found me up there, and…”

“Lucky indeed,” Ignis scoffs, leaning back into his chair and staring about the gardens in disbelief.

“Seriously though, what’re the odds?!” Gladio incredulously wonders, Prompto shrugging in disbelief himself.

“So I take it you’ve returned to thank him _personally_ , then?!” Ignis chuckles, the shock on his face still having not worn off.

“Heh – well…” Prompto sighs, his stomach tingling from nervousness as he starts to confess. “Cor wasn’t there on accident. I thought he was at first, and I thought it was all just the craziest coincidence of my life, but…”

“…but?” Gladio interrupts, completely intrigued.

“Apparently, King Regis sent Cor to Lestallum for me. Cor said he wants me to join Noctis’ Kingsglaive,”

“Join the Kingsglaive?!” Gladio repeats loudly, but Ignis hums, lips pursed, arms crossed. Prompto nods sheepishly at the bodyguard, but his smile slips from his face as he meets Ignis’ gaze, the tactician somewhat grave in his expression.

“About a month ago, His Majesty requested Cor and I join him in conversation at obscenely early hours. His majesty had asked me a handful of questions about your whereabouts before sending me away,” he explains. “I found the meeting to be quite strange, but ultimately thought nothing of it. Cor left that morning, but did not say on what grounds, or to where. Now, however, it all makes sense,”

“Did he – _Regis_ – did he say anything to you about why _me_?! Because Cor won’t tell me – well, Cor doesn’t really say much of anything…” Prompto whispers, Ignis closing his eyes and shaking his head. “As to why His Majesty would name you specifically, Prompto, I am afraid he did not confide within me those details either,”

“I was _really_ hoping you guys would know why King Regis is so fixed on _me_!”

“Well why didn’t either you or Cor tell us that _you_ were the third Glaive we were waiting on?!” Gladio barks, Prompto readjusting in his chair, sitting up straight.

“I uh – I kinda asked Cor not to say anything, I wanted to tell Noctis myself…” he shamefully whispers.

“And I’m assuming Noctis doesn’t know anything?!”

“Nope…” Prompto shakes his head, Ignis exhaling softly before opening his eyes. “But to be fair, he was too busy yelling to let me really get any words in…”

“Is this your choice, Prompto?” Ignis asks carefully, the blonde drawing his cardigan around his shoulders as a breeze picks up. “Are you ready to be back within the prince’s company?”

“I mean – as far as Noctis is concerned, he’s kinda refusing to talk to me, and, well…” Prompto swallows heavily before continuing. “…I got the newspaper every day in Lestallum, and I’ve been reading the headlines sayin’ him and Lady Luna are engaged for two years now. I’ve kind of made peace with it,” Prompto’s voice shakes sadly, closing his eyes and shaking the image of the aforementioned two in wedding garb from his head; the thought still threatens to break his heart clean in two.

“Do you still harbor feelings for His Majesty?” Ignis curiously adds, Prompto allowing a few moments of silence to settle between them before just barely nodding in response.

“But I’ve got them under control, I can put them aside,” Prompto assures them determinedly as Gladio and Ignis share a look of concern with one another. “I’ll never stop loving him. Not talking to him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but I knew I had to…”

“Then what else could have convinced you to accept the position, Prompto? I’m assuming that if Cor had not gone out to proposition you, you would have let such a dream die long ago? You love photography, and seemed to know your distance was best for you both,”

“Like I said, Iggy, I’ve been reading the headlines about Nifhleim in the newspaper…” Prompto explains. “I’ve seen the Niflheim ships, and they’re multiplying and they don’t seem peaceful. Niflheim doesn’t have any other kind of bumpy relationships with anyone outside the wall. I’ve been watching it for a while – and then on top of that I’ve just, I’ve just got so much on my mind, so many things I’ve been trying to work through – _personal stuff_ , you know?

I guess what I mean is, like – I didn’t wanna accept it, Iggy. I wanted to just be left alone. I was pretty happy there. I like Lestallum, I loved my school, my professors, my studies. But between the articles and me watching the ships and worrying about my family, about you guys, about Lucis, about Noctis – Cor said something that spoke to me, and when he said it, I knew I had no choice but to accept the position,”

“What’s that?” Gladio instantly interrogates.

“He said I could sit in Lestallum and watch it all and ignore the truth and suffer in silence, or at least put my suffering to good use, to save my family, my country my friends…”

“Cor always did had a gentle way with words,” Gladio sarcastically chuckles.

“He spent a whole month training with me –“

 _“You trained with the Marshall?!”_ Ignis interrupts with such awe in his voice, Prompto cannot help but go red. The three men turn around as yet another entourage of Glaives come forward, Cor at their head.

“Speak of the devil…” Gladio smirks, glancing at Prompto and throwing his thumb over his shoulder at the approaching man.

“We have much yet to discuss about this, Prompto. I welcome you this time with much more open arms into the Crownsguard, but with no less concerned or questioning ones,”

Prompto nods in agreement, unable to stop himself from laughing at Ignis’ persistence, even over the years. All three of them turn to look up at Cor, who clears his throat.

“His Majesty wishes to see you, Argentum,”

“Noctis?!” Prompto is instantly embarrassed by his reactionary comment, the blonde internally pleading his hopeful response does not betray him completely.

“The _King_ ,” Cor unamusedly corrects.

“Oh…” Prompto whispers in response, sharing a look with the others before slowing rising from his chair, slipping his cardigan on properly. “I’ll be right there…” he adds, looking at his two friends one last time before following after Cor, bracing himself to see the King after such a long time.

“Wait!” Ignis shouts, everyone jumping at the shrill noise breaking the air. “If I may please borrow Prompto in private for just one second…”

Cor nods, Prompto lingering back as Gladio gives him another hug before excusing himself for the castle.

“Though let me warn you that His Majesty is rather impatient. Any hang ups I will be blaming on you, Scientia,” Cor warns, Ignis nodding in response. “I shall escort Prompto to the throne room,”

“So be it, Scientia,” he calls again, not a hint of patience in his voice.

“…And to think you lot say _I_ can be unkind and not very understanding,” he chuckles before instantly switching gears back to his own air as equally serious as that of the Marshall. “Listen, Prompto…” Ignis sways closer, his eyes darting back and forth to be certain there are no ears to overhear. Prompto tenses up at their closeness, heart racing in anticipation.

“Do not think I am entitled to an answer for my next few questions, but my heart will not allow me otherwise; _something_ happened to you out here in these very gardens, a few years ago. I _know_ it,”

Prompto’s teeth graze his bottom lip, unable to hide the fear in his eyes and frame.

“I found you catatonic and unresponsive. Within three minutes, you’d left, never to be seen again, and barely heard from,” Ignis tilts his head to follow Prompto as he nervously begins to pace.

“The Chancellor,” is all Prompto’s shallow, shaking breath will allow him to divulge. He still does not feel comfortable revealing the exact words of the Chancellor, or his failed status as an MT. However, he does not mind sharing his greatest fear of returning with one of his greatest friends, not after so many years of silence having proven itself to be of little help in his journey of self-discovery.

“What do you mean, Prompto?!” Ignis asks the blonde urgently, placing his hands upon Prompto’s hands to steady him.

“The Chancellor of Niflheim – he – he – I don’t want to say – “

“And you don’t have to,” Ignis kindly assures him, Prompto closing his eyes to steady his anxious heart.

“I don’t wanna get into it Iggy, but – Cor knows – he knows what the Chancellor wants, what he knows – and he said that more than anything, they’ll try to get me on _their_ side – “

“Who will?! What side?!” Ignis asks desperately, Prompto’s breathing evening out as he asks the question burning most on his mind.

“I’ll have to face him again, won’t I?!” he whispers, Ignis hesitating before nodding slowly.

“I can only imagine so…” he mumbles sadly. “But if you and Cor suspect they want something to do with you, it would only be a matter of time before you encountered him anyway, and at least you’ll do so with us by your side, and not alone,”

“That’s what Cor said…” Prompto nods.

“Look – Prompto – I cannot know what the specifics are without you telling me, nor do you have to – but know that the boy who left here all those years ago, is not the man before me. You’ve been training, right?! Even further than the self-defense classes we had you go through. I’m sure you’ve found some hidden strength within you,”

Prompto nods, grateful for the words of encouragement.

 “You should also know that neither myself, or Gladio, or _especially_ Noctis, will let any ill befall you,”

“But Noctis doesn’t even want me here – “

“Just this morning Noctis was upset because you had not responded to the invitation to the coronation ceremony he sent to your parents,” Ignis reveals, Prompto flushing at his admission. “I’d be willing to bet he missed you much more greatly than you did him, Prompto. I’ve known Noctis long enough to know that his moods can be brooding, powerful, and long lasting, but I have never seen them obscure what he feels deep inside. Believe me, Prompto,” Ignis nearly growls, holding up a hand in acknowledgement to the Glaives that await them, who shout at them in impatience a few dozen feet away.

“It may not be readily apparent, but now that he has you in his life again, he’ll take on The Six themselves if they mean to take you away once more.”

* * *

 

Prompto had stood before the king in his throne room many times before, yet it is this particular time that leaves him anxious. Never had he been the focal point of a royal audience. His friendship with Noctis had always left him weaving in and out of the Citadel, a background character against the much more impressive backdrop of royalty. He bows low before the king he approaches, whose hair is now entirely white, since the last time Prompto had seen him in person. The black ring on his finger glows sinisterly bright in the gleams of sunlight it catches, as if feeding off Regis’ health imbued it with its vivacious, ethereal shine. Prompto ignores the dark gem as if it is a disgusting, warty growth upon the King’s hand, from which a distinct, baleful aura emanates.

“Wonderful to see you again, Prompto,” Regis’ voice is kind, warm, and genuine, a blunt contrast to the ring. The timbre of his voice works to soothe away just a little of Prompto’s visible anxiety. “You have grown indeed. You have truly blossomed into a handsome young man. Your parents must be proud,” he smiles at the one before him, though he cannot mistake the solemn spirit that internally wrestles against Prompto’s light hearted nature.

“And you, Your Majesty,” Prompto offers a small, but heartfelt smile of his own. He had never stood before Regis with such serious intent. The King had known him as his son’s goof of a best friend, but never as man capable of stoicism that could rival those of his court.

“I’m assuming Cor treated you well?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Prompto bows.

“In that case, it gladdens me to see you are well, for your silence has left us concerned for your wellbeing,”

“I’m sorry I’ve left you concerned, King Regis, a-and I’m g-grateful to be worthy of it,” Prompto attempts to be as regal as possible, having been around Noctis enough in the past to pick up on certain cues and manners of speaking.

“If you are answering my beckoning call to join Noctis’ Crownsguard as his Glaive, then my concern shall be a thing of the past…” Regis starts. “I must commend my son’s sense of character in that he has selected for himself a best friend so loyal and true, that he would opt to stand by his side in such a time of uncertainty,”

“…Well, that’s up to whether or not your son wishes me to be a part of his circle, Your Majesty,” Prompto nervously explains, for he cannot think of an adequate way to describe such drama to such an important man.

“Do not worry yourself over Noctis’ sour disposition. He is stressed, and most likely decompressing from the tragedy of having lost you for so long,” Regis hand waves the subject away, obviously so familiar with his own child that he needn’t any elaboration on what exactly Prompto meant with his statement.

Their constant pointing out of his absence is a compliment in that he is glad he was so sorely missed, but it begins to grate; no one, apart from Ignis or Gladio, seems to have any understanding that his disappearance had not come from a place of ill intent toward Noctis.

“I hope you do not take my hasty tone for rude, but the coronation shall take place in less than an hours’ time. I just want to finalize some details for you,” Regis stands, grabbing a pile of folded clothes and descending the throne steps carefully. He places the garments delicately into Prompto’s arms, the blonde gasping softly at the official uniform, the coats thick, well made, and heavy. The intricate, silver designs on the back and undershirt swirl into a stylized Bahamut, Prompto counting the winged-swords as they sprawl across the width of the fabric.

“Your Kingsglaive uniform, to be worn during the ceremony and the ball to follow in the honor of the new King and his men,” Regis watches Prompto quietly, who twirls the garments in his hands. His eyes are cloudy with the unmistakable, murky sheen of emotion. Regis’ own features slack into their resting positions as he reads the shadow of worry that covers Prompto’s face.

“…I understand it is a lot of me to ask for your allegiance to the crown…” Regis warily starts, Prompto looking up from the uniform a few seconds later, as if only just having registered the king spoke at all.

“…particularly when I am ripping you away from such a promising future. It is because of this very selflessness that I am prepared to offer you a fortune of ten million Lucians in exchange for your sacrifice,”

Even where Prompto had adjusted well to the affluent culture shock that came with keeping such elite company as the Prince of Lucis, he still finds his heart fluttering at the offered salary. Yet his friendship with Noctis left him wanting for nothing – the prince had little financial scruples when it came to providing for Prompto, whether out of necessity or for pleasure. A fortune does not complete his education, nor does it strip him of his fears regarding the Chancellor, his past. It does not smooth over his feelings for the son of the King, nor does it smooth other the King’s feelings for Prompto himself.

“I don’t want the money, Your Majesty,” Prompto whispers, growing numb at the thought of turning down such a comfortable, inconceivable amount of wealth.

“What is it then that you wish?!” Regis breathlessly wonders; never before had a man stood in audience before him and rejected such a generous offer.

“The – the safety and guaranteed comfort of my parents, is – is all I want in exchange for my services to Noctis…” Prompto cannot maintain eye contact with Regis, out of fear that he would look into his eyes and realize with sudden clarity that Prompto does not possess the eyes of a Crown Citizen. He stops himself from adding, _“To be seen as one of you, as someone who belongs_ ,” gulping instead. He averts his gaze before Regis can label him an imposter, his adopted parents traitors to the crown for adopting a boy of the Empire – even if he had been in Insomnia for as long as he can remember.

“Yes, of course, I shall see to it your parents are well taken care of…” Regis nods, furrowing his brow in utter confusion at the state of Prompto before him – such a withdrawn and unexpressive young man is hardly the very same one his son had grown to adore and miss ever so dearly.

Prompto bows deeply in gratefulness, frowning slightly, eyes glassy as he silently straightens up once more.

“Time is running short, I am afraid I must ask that we continue with our reacquainting this evening when time permits for such social talk,” Regis must stop himself from chuckling ironically – the butterfly of an extrovert before him is hardly social, his frame stiff and straight-backed, like that of a royal.

“Yes, Your Majesty – it is an honor…” Prompto whispers. “I’ll get changed right away, and await Noctis’ coronation…” he almost robotically adds, the two standing in awkward silence before Prompto mumbles a hurried _“If I may take my leave, Your Majesty”_ (learned years ago from Ignis) under his breath.

“Of course, Prompto…” Regis deflatedly responds. _“Perhaps the vision wasn’t so much for Noctis’ sake, but for Prompto’s…”_ he mentally deduces, his expression one of deep thought, aimed square at Prompto’s back as he walks away once more. He is surprised when he opens his eyes after rubbing his forehead wearily, to see Prompto stands in the middle of the walk way, facing toward him.

“Why me, Your Majesty? Why me now? Why me _that day_?” the question nearly tumbles from Prompto’s lips, as if the words had used the blonde’s dried, twisted tongue as a traitorous springboard. Regis exhales loudly before carefully choosing his words; while he could not confide to Prompto the contents of the prophecy, he could offer him the unifying thought that ties together all of his actions.

“I spent the entirety of Noct's last few months in school telling him there would be a time in which the two of you would have to part ways, yet here I am, two years later, a fool. It is within these two years that I have come to realize that I can bring in the best fighters, thinkers, shields, builders, healers, hunters – but none of them will offer the same support as the best friend. I say this as a King with many years of experience, with my own greatest friends beyond the wall, due to my many old, and now permanent, mistakes,” He gravely adds, Prompto’s bright blue eyes unblinking.

“…I pick you because I know how much my son cares for you, Argentum. I see now, the way you truly bring the best out of my boy. No matter how he may appear to you now. The way you bring him so much joy and peace…”

“Maybe before – “ Prompto moodily scoffs, not even registering he insubordinately cuts of the King.

“I ask this daunting and highly priceless favor of you because I fear where my son may be led as ruler without you by his side,” Regis skillfully interrupts further. “There is not a single person bred from birth who brings a brightness to my son’s eyes quite like you, Prompto, and I have not seen that mirth return since your disappearance,”

Prompto’s lips twist, for he closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the memory of Luna’s words that fateful day, when Umbra had first appeared in his bedroom --

“I must admit, there have been times and days since the very beginning of your friendship with one another in which I could not help but wonder if my son was not in love with you,”

The words cause Prompto to turn around quickly, his blood running cold through his body. He curses himself for the faint glimmer of hope that nearly forces a _“Really?!”_ to risk its way out of his long extinguished hopes and dreams, the suspicions of Regis a fresh gasp of air after years of lingering in the depths of melodramatic reality.

“I take it you still love my son?” Regis asks quietly, Prompto looking at him nervously, eyes wavering. “There are all different types of love, other than romantic,” he adds in Prompto’s persistent silence.  “Brotherly, platonic, _familial and unconditional_. Perhaps what you call love for Noctis is one that you had never thought to consider,”

Prompto parts his lips, closing eyes, willing himself not to break down, not after having come so far. He cannot bring himself to explain that he felt all of those loves for Noctis at once.

“No matter what, I know we can’t be more than – more than what we’ve always been. I get it, now. I’ve come to grips with it. And while I’m not exactly ready to come back here, to Lucis, to him, I guess The Six and your Crystals don’t really care all that much for what I’ve got on my end,” Prompto cannot help but pointedly, yet respectfully, add to the end of his sentence, Regis shaking his head in agreement.

“I must admit, never in the history of the Lucian Line has it ever been known for a king to have feelings for another man. It would be just as strange of a feeling as a father to accept such a union – it is simply so unorthodox. Though it is all speculative, for my son and Luna are finally to be wed after such a long delay. Yet still. Eos is filled with beautiful people, Prompto, and out there is someone who is meant for you, even where my son, unfortunately, is not,”

“Yup,” Prompto hisses, eyes now heavy, fixed upon the cool, black and white checkered floor.

“Even beyond all this, I know what it is you fear, Argentum,” Regis’ eyes dart toward the blonde’s wrist, which is covered by its usual bandana. The King feels no need to elaborate, the horror that blanches the face of his son’s best friend more than enough confirmation for the older man. He cannot ask for such a troubled young man to take on such a great task without unloading such an emotional burden between them both.

“…Does Noctis know?” is all he can spare to utter, not even doing himself the curtesy of denying the King’s allegation. He sighs, closing his eyes and placing his hand against his heart when Regis shakes his head.

“Nor will he ever, at least not by my admission,”

Prompto nods in confirmation of his own mental bearings. He mumbles under his breath, bowing quickly toward Regis before offering him a hurried _“Thank you, Your Majesty”_ and rushing away.

“No, Prompto,” Regis whispers before checking his watch and descending down the throne steps with a bit more purpose as he realizes it comes time to prepare for the ceremony. “Thank _you_.”

* * *

 

Standing upon the hard, cool stone for hours, straight backed and tense and unexpressive, had proven itself very difficult over the course of the near five hour event. The ominous, archaic Latin chanting had chilled the room of its humid Spring breeze that wafted throughout the granite walls, freezing the stuffy air where it had grown still from a lack of movement. The hundreds of eyes upon the front of the room had unnerved Prompto, too, for they all belonged to political or royal strangers who sought to witness the swearing in with their own eyes. Thick, light yellow candles had burned for the entire ceremony’s duration, becoming malformed, malleable stumps, the expenditure of assuredly artisanal skills that went into crafting them.

The scent of melting wax, smoldering flame, and wet stone would take months to forget, the mingle of smells permanently contained within his sensory memory. Each breath had become harder to draw, the stench of old rites threatening to imprison the blonde within the confines of their thousand year old boundaries.

It had been difficult to watch the way Regis had stumbled to the floor, gasping candidly as he transitioned power from the ring into the three Glaives. “May you all know strength in brotherhood, and in your ability to draw magic and summon your weapons, powers granted to you by kings before me,” Regis had breathlessly whispered unto them before the crowd once stabilizing once more. “Abilities that shall leave you as surely as they were bestowed upon you, should the Line of Lucis die out,” he gravely warned, the three men cradling their chests as an instant, unignorably warm sense of supreme power enveloped them to their very souls.

The eruption of applause that sounded once Regis’ shaking hands had placed the simple, golden band of the King upon his son’s head had nearly robbed Prompto of his ability to hear. The jubilation had not subsided for many minutes after, Prompto’s hands sore from clapping, his legs worn from kneeling.

The greatest difficulty of all had been Noctis’ complete ignoration of the blonde throughout the entire coronation. Not once had he made eye contact with Prompto, nor spoken any words aloud to him, or even looked in his general direction. Although Prompto knows their shared silence very well, it hurts him no less that Noctis continued to ignore him, even after having been permanently sworn to one another by gods and kings.

 _“And imagine this for two years. No wonder he’s miffed at you,”_ Prompto’s inner monologue had nagged, the final straw of it all. He was grateful when Regis had granted Prompto’s request to allow him the evening to spend with his parents at their home not too far away.

Noctis has no such escape from the ballroom, or the adoring public that floods it. He is light headed, overwhelmed, and anxious, though such emotions fail in masking his good looks. He cannot help but grin slightly as he places a hand on Iris’ hip, who beams herself at the touch. Gladio grins before giving them a thumbs up, standing together with Ignis on the sideline of people watching those dance in the middle. The live orchestra swells, the glittering amethyst necklace around Iris’ neck catching candle light as she twirls. She collapses in Noctis’ arms as the music stops, the other dancing guests along with it. Iris breathlessly pants, Noctis awkwardly avoiding her wide, brown-eyed stare. She smiles at his trademark sheepishness, kissing him on the cheek before running away towards her brother in the crowd, leaving Noctis confused and red-face, scratching behind his neck.

He slowly saunters out of the circle himself before the orchestra picks up yet again, the younger King wanting to avoid getting swept up into the arms of another woman along with the musical current. He finds his jog does not slow, even as he reaches the stationary outer edges of the ballroom. Ignis and Gladio share a look at one another at Noctis’ determined stride, but he does not care. He pushes a large set of doors before walking through them, closing them just softly enough to not warrant a distraction. The long, thin hallway outside of the ballroom is completely dark, empty, and silent; Noctis sighs from relief. He rests against the doors, eyes closed as he leans his head back in an attempt to reorient himself.

He uses the tips of his flushed, rosy fingers to hoist himself off the doors, Noctis slowing his stroll to look down upon the sea of light below that is the whole of Insomnia. The entire Crown City celebrates his coronation, the flickering of lights and candles extending across the entire horizon. The peace treaty with Niflheim will leave his people partying through the weekend, he mentally notes, his own imminent return with the Oracle as his wife and Queen would warrant even more rejoicing down below.

“You keep dancing like that with women who are not your bride to be and I worry your scandal may outshine news of the signing tomorrow,” Regis chuckles, Noctis turning around sharply, eyes wide with surprise.

“Before you ask how I knew you’d be out here, remember I am father to Noctis first, and to the king second,” he chuckles, Noctis turning red. “And Noctis is _very_ predictable.”

Noctis’s lips curl in irritation; could his father not see the culmination of pressures already threatened to come to a head?

“It was just Iris, dad – “ Noctis quietly tries to correct, still preoccupied by the dancing lights below.

“The hardest part of queenship for your mother had little to do with duty. I’d say it was definitely having to share me with the entire world,”

“What do you mean?” Noctis asks quietly, him and his father streaked in the greyish white of the moon as it passes from behind a midnight blue cloud.

“Just remember to show Luna she is the only woman in your life when the time comes,” Regis offers, but Noctis scoffs, waving his hand and turning back around toward the window.

“I can’t even go there mentally right now, dad – “ he does not mean to be rude, but he finds no shame in admitting the newness of his title threatens to consume him in anxiety, even where he has prepared for it his whole life.

And in a way, Luna was the only woman in his life; all of the other important figures in his life had been consistently men.

“It was just a dance, dad…”

“I know, son,” Regis sighs, placing a hand on the shoulder of Noctis, which he is glad he does no reject. “I was merely trying to lighten your assuredly frazzled mood. I’ll try not to backseat king from now on, alright?”

Noctis smiles briefly before it disappears, the young man looking out the window once more.

“I bet the parties out there are much more entertaining, eh?” Regis mutters, Noctis smirking, though saying nothing.

“I’m rather surprised you and Prompto have not tried to sneak out to one,”

“He’s not even _here_ anyway,” Noctis rolls his eyes before walking away from the window, pacing slowly, his line of sight angled at his feet. “He’s probably too busy trying to _run away_ without saying anything again,”

Regis cannot ignore his son’s spitting tone, his earlier conversation with Prompto instantly coming to mind.

“Well, he is a Glaive now, he cannot just abandon his post,”

“Bullshit,” Noctis swears, closing his eyes in anger. If the blonde could have left Noctis without a word after harboring such a deep connection with him, no title or oath would find itself any stronger.

“You always knew he was leaving, Noctis. The two of you had made it very clear to one another that he was always going to Lestallum!”

“Not really, Dad…” Noctis whispers, lifting his head and frowning slightly. “Even before he left me, all those years ago, when he said he wanted to be in my Crownsguard, even then. He promised me _so much_ – that’d we’d see each other every other weekend, that we’d write and text every day. We even agreed to video chat at least three times a week – and look what came out of it dad – I got my number blocked, and nothing from him, _nothing_ – I sent him a camera, letters, cards, notes to his parents, and I got nothing in return. He just _left_ ,” Noctis sucks air in through his teeth, Regis recoiling slightly; the last thing he had wanted was to add yet another mental tax to his son.

“…Did you ever stop to think that _maybe_ something might have happened to him for him to suddenly change his mind like that?” Regis simply interrogates, Noctis crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder against the thick, granite wall.

“That’s what Ignis thinks, but – “

“And when is Ignis ever wrong?” Regis’ eyes shine with the light of the moon that greets them once again, the muffled swell of chamber music beyond the closed doors filling in for their silence.

“If it’s true, then why wouldn’t he talk to me about it?!” Noctis spits, growing irritated at the thought alone. “We always talked, about everything, _always_! He helped me through so much, he helped me make it through one of the loneliest times of my life!”

Regis raises his arms to calm the young man before him who starts to shout, Noctis clenching his teeth and pausing before continuing.

 “So why did he run away from _me_?! If what he went through is so bad, why didn’t he ever reach out to _me_ , his best friend?! I’m just supposed to _jump up and down and clap_ now that he’s back, now that his trauma is over?!”

“Are you sure that time for Prompto really _is_ over?” Regis rhetorically traps his son, smiling as Noctis groans, throwing his head up at the ceiling and swinging his arms about moodily.

“This shit is hard enough without this kinda drama thrown into it, dad…”

“Don’t I know it…” Regis whispers, his smile still fixed upon his face. ”Listen, Noctis. It has been thirty years since I have last met with Cid in person,” he starts softly, grabbing his son’s attention. “His granddaughter may come to fix the car every now and again, but I have not truly sat by Cid’s side as a friend in _three_ decades. My time is running out, son, I do not suspect I will see the cold of Winter – “

 _“Don’t say that!”_ Noctis aggressively growls, balling his fists, but Regis closes his eyes before continuing without acknowledging Noctis’ outburst.

“Do you know how much I regret letting my ego get in the way of one of the most important bonds I’ve ever forged in my life?”

Noctis scoffs again, his grey eyes narrowed judgmentally. “And why do I have to be the bigger person?!”

“It’s not so much about being bigger, as much as it is understanding that, as hard as it is for me to believe, that Prompto is indeed a person with his own trials and tribulations, and that the two of you are not conjoined at the hip,”

Noctis chews on his bottom lip as he lets the words of his father sink in, Regis sighing before continuing on.

“He did not take the millions of Lucians I offered him,” Regis explains, Noctis wide eyed, his jaw dropped.

“Nor did he wish for anything in exchange for his return for Lucis, other than the safety of his parents, whom he is currently visiting, for they did not know he was to be in town this evening,”

He is pleased to see his words stupefy Noctis, whose eyes cloud over in yet more contemplation.

“I requested he return, Noctis. I requested it after telling you for so long that your friendship would one day have to come to an end. After all that agonizing I put you through, here he is, yet again. Funny how wrong I was, I suppose..." Regis mumbles into Noctis' continued silence before finishing his thought. "According to Cor, who retrieved him, he has been very nervous and uncertain about it all, but committed to the idea of _you_ , which makes me think – are his times of emotional distance and isolation really over, Noctis? Or are his emotional ups and downs simply not as fickle and fleeting as your own?”

He avoids Noctis’ swat, having to stop himself from smiling at his son’s scowl.

“Who knows how great I could have been had I let Cid back into my life,”

“You are great, dad…” Noctis whispers, Regis chuckling before bringing him into a hug. “I thank you, Noct, I do. But imagine how much _greater_ I could have been with the person who inspired the greatest within me by my side,”

Noctis jumps slightly at the sound of fireworks erupting just outside the window, green and gold showers of sparks painting his poised father’s face in technicolor, casting shadows against the deep wrinkles.

“There has been nothing more rewarding than seeing how beautiful of a man you have become, Noctis,” Regis brings Noctis into an embrace, the thickness of their cloaks and shirts doing nothing to mask the warmth the two emit. “And I have nothing but great hopes and high expectations for your own reign. But understand that a King is only as great as the company he keeps. Gladio and Ignis are fine and exquisite, but they are duty bound, and bred through tradition. Prompto, even in the midst of his own crisis, casts it aside, not out of either of those things, but because of what he considers to be a not-so-easily severed connection with you,”

Noctis blinks as a single tear rolls down his eye, one that he does not go to wipe, so as to not draw attention to it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him, but I am imploring you to respect him enough to understand his perspective,”

“You said he’s at his parents?” Noctis whispers through a watery voice.

“Yes, he probably has a lot to talk about with them himself, considering you all are to leave for Altissa first thing in the morning,” Regis raises his eyebrows, unable to miss Noctis’ gaze toward the blonde’s neighborhood thousands of feet below.

“The party here is lively enough without you,” Regis nods, Noctis instantly taking his father’s meaning and hugging him quickly again before nodding. “But the ones one the street would probably love to have the King himself join them, so do not get distracted!”

* * *

 

Those partying on the streets in the name of his coronation are much too drunk to recognize the guest of honor who runs along their sidewalks at midnight. He is grateful for the sloppy joy that consumes his people, for his legs already begin to give out as he rounds Prompto’s corner.

 _“How am I supposed to say any of this?!”_ Noctis’ mind races, panting heavily as he forces himself forward. _“What is he gonna think?! How do you do just open conversations like this up?!”_

Noctis stares up at the starlit sky, watching the clouds above as they blow away in the breeze of the obscenely early morning. He curses them quietly as they distort and float away in the wind, as if to say _, “You’re on your own there, pal.”_

When the skies do not part, and no helpful hand of The Six raps on the metal door of Prompto’s townhome for him, he knows the burden rests upon his shoulders. He nearly turns around and walks away on the third set of knocks. The silence of the townhome leaves him with nothing but a pounding heart and adrenaline weakened legs.

Neither cease as the door swings open slowly, bathing Noctis and the doorstep in yellow, comforting light. Prompto’s eyes widen at the sight of the man before him, the blonde having cast his uniform coat aside for just the undershirt and leather pants. He is exhausted, is all Noctis can note, his bright blue eyes heavy, his skin pale, but he is _beautiful_ , handsome and flawless, Noctis overcome with the duality of both rage and pride at the sight of the Glaive before him, the man nearly a stranger once more, but also his _friend_.

“Who is it?!” the familiar voice of Prompto’s mother calls from the kitchen, Noctis pushing the front door open Prompto means to close, holding it open with an aggressive hand and aggressive expression.

“You _know_ who it is, dear,” his father unamusedly replies, his mother laughing sweetly before sighing. _“Congratulations on your Coronation, King Noctis!”_

“T-Thanks!” Noctis awkwardly calls past the threshold, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I’m going for a walk, I’ll be back in a little bit!” Prompto shouts back, stepping outside and closing the door behind him right as his mother retorts back, _“With Noctis?!”_

He slams the door behind him, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. The moody challenge in Prompto’s stance washes the kind tone and words of Regis from Noctis’ memory, the black haired man scowling and tensing up.

“You didn’t even _look_ at me during your ceremony – “ Prompto venomously starts, the anger having stewed within him all day.

“Yeah, and you haven’t given me any kind of sign you’re alive in _two years_ – “

“You’d think that you could put the petty aside during your _own_ coronation ceremony!” Prompto repeats, not caring if he is unjustified or dramatic at a late hour, before the King himself.

“Petty?! You’re gonna talk to me about petty when you did fuck even knows what with all the letters I gave to your parents to send you! You’re gonna talk about petty when you blocked my number from your phone?! You’re gonna talk about petty when you went from talking about how we were gonna see each other every weekend, to being in my Crownsguard, to not talking to me at all -- ?!”

“Well I’m _here_ , aren’t I?!” Prompto aggressively whispers, sprawling his hands out desperately toward the young King, who stands up straight upon the side walk. “What do you want, man?! You want me to bow and kiss your feet?! You want me to worship you?!”

 _“I want you to tell me why you never confided in me that something was wrong, I want you to tell me why you left!”_ Noctis shouts back, unable to stop himself from throwing his hands to grip on Prompto’s biceps, tightly, though nonthreateningly. “I want you to tell me why the hell you never once reached out to me!” he adds, Prompto’s eyes immediately shiny with tears he manages to hold back, the eye contact he maintains with Noctis too powerful to dispel.

“I couldn’t, Noctis! Not when you had a kingdom, a legacy, _a wife_ \-- !” Prompto shakes Noctis of his grip before he steps down from his doorstep, slowly sauntering down the street. “You had enough on your goddamn plate…” he shoots back, Noctis frowning before jogging after him and turning the blonde to face him once more.

“And what’s all that supposed to mean?!” Noctis growls, approaching Prompto ever still, who takes slight steps backward. “I still don’t have the Kingdom. Dad is only just transitioning the real power to me after the negotiations. You’ve never given a fuck about my legacy, and that’s part of why we got on so well in the first place! And – and a wife – “ Noctis sputters, Prompto folding his arms defensively. “I’m still not married, Prompto!” Noctis shrugs, having run through all of the blonde’s excuses. “So I don’t quite buy it,”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you…” Prompto concedes, shrugging his shoulders. “Because those are the answers. And you may not have had all that _then_ , but you do _now_ , and we both knew it was gonna come to this sooner or later – and who would I have been, the needy, poor commoner dude, with all of his _problems_ , _pining away_ for the Prince – “

“You would have been the difference between the two most miserable years of my life, and another two we would have had with one another,” Noctis sentimentally utters, clasping his hands to his mouth at the choice of words. He closes his eyes and waves his hand before turning away from Prompto, who turns his head away and stares at a row of cars parked along the street, trying to ignore the silence between them.

“Are you happy?! There!” Noctis snaps, turning back around suddenly. “I don’t care if whatever fuckin’ problems you had made me neglect the whole world, Prompto, it would have been worth the trade of having you by my side!”

“Yeah, and that’s only part of why I left…” Prompto whispers, his voice even, but barely. “I don’t know if Ignis gave you my graduation present – “

“He did – “

“Then you know what I said in there, and I _meant_ it,” Prompto whispers, the two standing stiffly, yet only inches away from each other. “I don’t belong here, Noctis. Not here with you, with those feelings, not while you’re begging me to stay, to move in with you, to be your knight, while you’re _kissing_ me – “

“Prompto –“

“We can call it practice or whatever it was, but I couldn’t _take_ it anymore! It wasn’t fair to anyone, Noctis, I couldn’t take my feelings for you, anymore. I couldn’t watch them distract you,”

Prompto lifts his head up to gauge Noctis’ reaction, the man merely watching Prompto, his body slowly rising and falling with his breath.

“…And that _Chancellor_ , Noctis –“

“What did he do to you?!” Noctis aggressively questions, furrowing his brow as Prompto waves it away. “I don’t want to talk about it –“

“If he did something to you that day –“

“ _Noctis_ –“

“And that’s why you left –“ Noctis steps forward, cornering Prompto against the brick side wall of a building, their conversation masked in darkness.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Prompto repeats, the two of them refusing to blink, they stare at one another so intently.

“I wasn’t gonna hold you down with my problems – _any of them_ ,” Prompto explains, not even flinching when Noctis grips his biceps again, for the gesture is soft, and, even if he imagines it in all of his exhaustion, somewhat understanding. “I didn’t leave _because_ of you, I left _for_ you,”

“And that’s fucking _stupid_ , Prompto…” Noctis shakes his head, his hands trailing down his best friend’s toned arms, though he lets them go before they can grip his hands. “I would _never_ abandon you if you need me, _ever_ –“

“And is that what you think I did, then?!” Prompto whispers in disgust. “You think I just up and left, and abandoned _you_?!” 

The slightly taller of the two of them shakes his head slowly before gulping.

“I was trying to save you my problems, Noctis. I couldn’t have been a good friend, all while going through my own issues, and knowing that the feelings I have for you, you can’t return, because they’re meant for someone else…”

“ _Meant_ for, but they _weren’t_ ,” Noctis interrupts, Prompto folding his arms and leaning against the wall that Noctis rests his back against, sitting upon the cool, dusty ground.

“Did you feel more than friendship for me back then, Noctis?” Prompto asks quietly, his features soft and vulnerable as he awaits an answer. Noctis’ breath rattles as he nods his head, Prompto bending his knees to squat on the ground next to his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“How could I not?! You’re – you’re – “ Noctis struggles with the words, running his hands down his face, massaging them to prepare for the coming confession. “You’re the most precious thing in my _life_ , Prompto – more than rings, or cars, or crystals or my fortune, my legacy – there are a lot of people I love, _a ton_ even, and they come _close_ , but – “

Noctis blinks slowly as silent tears streak down Prompto’s already pale, cool face, the young man wiping them for him softly with the soft sleeve of his suit jacket. “What’s funny, and even fuckin’ _typical_ for me…” Noctis whispers, shaking his head from ironic humor. “…that day, when Niflheim first announced the terms of their treaty, and I was gonna tell dad I wanted you to be in my Guard – I was gonna tell you…”

“Tell me what?” Prompto asks quickly, Noctis scoffing and smirking at Prompto’s hasty interest.

“I was gonna tell you how to save fifteen percent or more on your car insurance -- _C’mon, Prom_ , whaddaya _think_?” Noctis chuckles, Prompto heaving a slightly shuddering sigh before shaking his head.

“I guess I kinda am glad you left, ‘cause I’m wondering how I would have said anything, let alone something like _that_ ,”

“I mean, I can’t even go back to a fast food restaurant to tell them they got my order wrong…” Prompto agrees, raising his eyebrows. “It’s why I had to write it in a _book_ , you know? So no matter how awkward it would have come out, I would have understood…”

“Yeah, well…” Noctis shrugs. “There would’ve been a _lot_ of awkward standin’ around,” they both laugh, Noctis digging his fingers into the grass, watching them with distinct interest.

“Plus, you know – a Caelum can’t exactly _have the hots_ for another dude…”

“I mean, it never would have come to that anyway, I’m with Luna…” Noctis explains, Prompto nodding his head.

“Are you happy about it?”

“I mean – kinda?! Like, she’s hot and awesome and a great _friend_ , but it’s kinda gonna feel like marrying my sister, almost…”

“Gross, man…” Prompto grimaces.

“But I get the feeling that marrying her will get her outta this shitstorm she’s in with the Empire, and it’ll allow her to go and heal people…”

“So then it’s what’s good for the fate of the world – see, that’s the kinda personal growth I left for, Noct – “

“Well, don’t do it again, please?!” Noctis turns to face his friend. “The only reason I didn’t show up at your place ready to box your ass is because Iggy and your parents did their best to give you your space. I know that maybe we’re different in the way we handle things, but there’s not a problem on your plate I won’t ever be by your side to help you solve, alright? And if not as your friend, then as the King,”

“You know, last time we used that justification, we sat in your bed making out all night…” Prompto whispers, Noctis growing red, choking on his own breath. The words are still very comforting to Prompto who, although he still struggles with his feelings, cannot help but feel significantly more secure with his friend by his side once more.

“Then – _y-you know what I mean_ …” Noctis turns away again, pouting at Prompto’s soft chuckle.

“Your parents are probably getting worried…” he mumbles, rising from the ground and dusting his hips and waist.

“ _Probably not?!_ They’re definitely used to me running away with you by now…” Prompto sighs, drawing his arms around his knees, pulling them against his chest.

“Well, I don’t wanna keep you from them,”

“I face timed them a lot, so it’s not so bad…” Prompto sheepishly admits, Noctis biting back a comment in order to maintain what civility the two have managed to bridge through their conversation.

“…But still,” Prompto adds, Noctis extending a hand for him to take, so that he too, may lift himself from off the ground. “Thanks, for uh – you know, listening to me, if I need to get real all of a sudden,”

“I just wish I had told you this that morning,” Noctis starts down the street, Prompto jogging slightly to keep up.

“It would have made things like that a lot harder, in the end…”

“Yeah,” Noctis concedes, hands in his pockets as he maintains a stroll with the young man next to him. “This is gonna sound _really_ incriminating and I _swear_ I don’t mean it like this –“

“…What’s up?” Prompto wonders.

“Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s our last night in town. My apartment’s a bit of a mess, though,” Noctis scratches behind his neck, Prompto blushing, though laughing a bit.

“See, this is why I didn’t wanna say anything, ‘cause I don’t want things to be weird,”

“They’re – they’re not _weird_ …” Noctis shyly retorts. The two spend the walk back the high rises in silence, slow and careful not to tread into the many parties that still commence at nearly two in the morning. Prompto shoots a quick text to his parents as the two quietly wait for the elevator to reach the lobby, Noctis stretching as he releases a long, dramatic yawn.

“The King of Lucis, goin’ back to his pig sty with his bum friend,” Prompto looks up from his phone as the bell of the elevator dings, and the sleek, gold doors part.

“Some things never change, I guess…” Noctis raises his eyebrows, stepping aboard as well. “Right, don’t judge,” Noctis reiterates.

“I’m not meeting you for the first time, Noct…” Prompto preemptively holds his breath as the man opens up his door, but he releases his nostrils in sudden surprise, the apartment not having changed since the day he left, and surprisingly so, absolutely _immaculate._

 _“I guess Iggy showed up!”_ Prompto cheerfully gasps, unable to stop himself from collapsing on the leather, dark red couch before him. He closes his eyes, unable to believe that he is comfortable and with _Noctis_ once more.

“Hey, uh, Prom…” Noctis wonders, his voice nearly entirely drowned out by the sounds of pots and pans clanging.

“Yeah?” he sits up, looking over the back of the couch at the man who throws noodles and beef cubes into a wok before dousing them in salt and oil. The man had been quick to discard his outer layers, left in nothing but his fitted suit pants and his tight black undershirt. Prompto crosses his arms atop the back of the couch, resting his head against it and watching the other man cook dreamily.

“You’ve gotten better I see!” Prompto pipes up, for the near five minutes of concentrated cooking Noctis exudes results in tangy, simmering hints of garlic and teriyaki sauce, as opposed to smoke and charred inedibles. Noctis turns his lips up at the jest before lowering the flame and dumping the contents of the wok onto two plates.

“Ignis got sick of cooking it for me, so he taught me how to make it myself,” Noctis mumbles, thankful to see Prompto wastes no time in digging in.

“I didn’t really feel comfortable stickin’ around at your party and eating…” Prompto explains, Noctis crossing his legs and sitting down next to him on the couch.

“But what were you gonna ask me?” Prompto looks up from his plate, Noctis hissing and placing his fork down.

“Right, so – did you – did you ever get a camera? F-from me?!” Noctis wonders, Prompto instantly growing red and looking down at what little of the stir fry remains on his plate.

“Okay, so – yeah, I – I did. _Thanks, Noct_ ,” Prompto genuinely nods, placing a hand on Noctis’ arm. “But – uh –“

“What?!” Noctis wonders, shifting closer to him, growing confused by Prompto’s stammering.

“Some Niflheim soldiers attacked me while I was out taking pictures – “

 _“They what?!”_ Noctis disbelievingly shouts, features wrinkled in anger.

“And they _kinda_ broke it in the scuffle,” Prompto tries his best to end it as cheerfully as possible, Noctis slamming back against the couch and leaning his head back.

“I mean...you’re alright, and that’s what’s important…” Noctis nods, throwing an arm around the crestfallen Prompto’s shoulder. “I mean it. I’m glad you’re okay…”

“I’m glad that you don’t hate me too much for it to not be okay,” Prompto tries to smile. “It’s another reason why I’m glad I’m your Glaive. It’s gonna sound dumb, Noct, but like – as much as I’m gonna protect you, I – I kinda feel like you’ll be protecting me just as much…”

“And how was I supposed to do that with you hundreds of miles away?!” Noctis snaps, Prompto looking at him confusedly.

“Do what?!”

“Protect you?!” Noctis rolls his eyes, though a smile breaks out across his face at Prompto’s soft laughter.

“You’re up for it, then?! You really would?”

“If you look out for me, I’ll look out for you, alright?” Noctis promises, Prompto nodding and falling gladly into his arms, the two embracing one another so tightly that they must let each other go so they can breathe once more.

“I know we kinda – went through that whole protection rite earlier but – I feel like our own personal one is way better…”

“Yeah…” Prompto dreamily agrees, his cheeks burning as he closes his eyes and looks downward; only a half a day between them has passed, and already Prompto feels himself grow weak-kneed for the prince now turned king.

“I always used to get upset, back then…” Prompto mumbles, chuckling before continuing. Noctis urges him to continue however, nodding fervently. “Dude, this is gonna sound _so fucking lame_ , but…sometimes I’d sit in class, and wonder what our royal wedding would be like,”

Prompto groans aloud as Noctis bursts into laughter, developing a cramp from where he had just recently eaten.

“Are you _serious_ , Prom?! Holy shit!” he immediately starts laughing again, Prompto staring up at the ceiling _. “And this is why I never wanted to tell you…”_ he quietly whispers, hitting Noctis playfully on the stomach.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I would think about how I’d propose to you – I drew the line at the actual _wedding_ ,” Noctis teases, Prompto sighing longingly. “Just know that in my day dreams, our wedding was catered by Kenny’s…”

“ _Fuck yeah_ it was, Prom, what else was it gonna be?” Noctis grins, for the first real time in nearly two years, his grey eyes lidded by the smile he directs toward his best friend, whom he still cannot help but slightly resent for denying him such sunshine for so long.

“But I mean…we might as _well_ be married, dude…” Prompto raises an eyebrow, his tone suddenly serious. “Think about it. We had a really long ceremony, super specific outfits for it, vows and stuff, you like, could _barely_ look at me throughout the whole thing, we were surrounded by a bunch of people, _and_ we’re divinely joined together,”

“Yeah, but…the vows were just lame crystal and god words in a language no Lucians even _speak_ anymore…” Noctis huffs, blinking slowly as Prompto leans closer toward him.

“Then maybe we should come up with some of our own? Now that you’re _talking_ to me I guess?” Prompto whispers, and Noctis cannot stop his hand from travelling through his best friend’s hair and down his cheek.

“You could – well, nah…” Prompto cuts himself short, though he leans into the touch of his friend, hating himself for having missed it so.

“What?” Noctis whispers, not scooting away when Prompto shifts against him.

“We could – we could say what we were gonna say, the day I left…” Prompto cannot believe he allows the words to slip, his desire to hear them spoken aloud nearly as hoakey and shameful as his confession over his childish dreams about weddings that were sure to never happen. But Noctis, funnily enough, does not laugh this time.

“Nah – I’m sorry, Noct. I already said earlier I’ve come to terms with it,” Prompto retracts his statement, Noctis following Prompto’s motions with great interest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve already promised myself, my dad – _you_ , that I wouldn’t let my selfish feelings get in the way of how I am with you…” Prompto verbally stumbles, but Noctis turns Prompto’s head to face him, his own expression serious and clear.

“Are you still in love with me, Prompto?!” Noctis almost desperately wonders, Prompto closing eyes and shaking slightly as he slowly nods his head. Perhaps saying it and confronting it would be the first true step in relieving him of his feelings, Prompto rationalizes. But he quickly realizes that Noctis interprets his nod to not be a point of closure on the topic, the man instead snaking a gentle hand around the back of Prompto’s head.

“I’ve already missed my chance to say it once,” he mumbles as he stares into the eyes of his best friend, the one who had taught him so much, the one whom he would neglect the entire world if it meant keeping him by his side for good. Prompto is just as complicit in the meeting of their lips as his friend, Noctis moving his hands to wrap around Prompto’s torso, the blonde wrapping his own around Noctis’ neck.

Noctis is pleased that Prompto does not mind the growing aggression of their kisses, the two of them engaged deeply and intimately with one another. The crown atop his head, about which he had long since forgotten about, tumbles to the ground in a soft, pleasant, metallic _“clink!”_ as he lies Prompto down along the length of the couch. He does not care that their impulses are carnally answered, their tangled prison of arms keeping them close against one another.

“I love you...” Noctis barely whispers, his voice dry and husky and barely audible, the sound causing them both to abandon reason as they continue to kiss deeply, their problems, cares, and history very, very much irrelevant. It is a much better, much more solid swearing in for Prompto as his Glaive, Noctis decides.

His lips against Prompto’s neck elicits a soft, longing sound from the blonde that electrifies the newly crowned King, neither of them noticing Noctis’ phone as it lights up with the solitary text from Ignis.

_Do not see you at the party. Can only assume one thing. Do tell Prompto hello from us. Glad to hear your headaches have subsided for now. Congratulations again, Your Majesty. I look forward to your first day as King tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was hard as fucking sin to write. There were so many ends to tie, regarding everyone's reactions to everyone else. There's so much more I want to write, but this shit is long enough, tbh. I had my girl Angerama on the proof read game (me and her have a 15 day snapchat streak btw whats good) and she made this chapter the BARELY passable for recycling that it is. For real, ask her how the UNEDITED version of this chapter went, she can tell you some war stories.
> 
> THE ENDING WAS HOAKEY BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN WAITING TO BLOW MY HOAKEY LOAD FOR SO LONG THAT I JUST DID IT I'M SORRY I'LL CLEAN IT UP. I've been waiting for the perfect moment for Noctis to say the words and I felt like this was it.
> 
> It's been an ABSOLUTE BLAST writing with y'all and I can't thank you enough for your praise and support. More promptis will be comin soon, don't worry!
> 
> come check me out on tumblr yall, im peanutprison
> 
> i post really dank twitter memes and reblog lots of cats come say whats good sometime
> 
> There are a couple more scenes (including some smut) I wanna write about their adventures in the world, but I'll post those as separate pieces.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ignis: All Business?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668132) by [Not_a_Palindrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_a_Palindrome/pseuds/Not_a_Palindrome)




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